


Schism

by RogueMarks



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alcohol, Ensemble Cast, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kaiju (Pacific Rim), M/M, Medication, Seizures, Self-Denial, Self-Medication, Smoking, Suicide Attempt, The Drift (Pacific Rim), Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:24:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 72,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7583104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueMarks/pseuds/RogueMarks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the days following Operation Pitfall, Newton and Hermann must come to terms with the dubious peace that grasps the world. Memories, emotions, and monsters threaten their trust, challenging the scientists to find a peace within themselves following their shared drift event.</p><p>TW: In regards to tags, if you are on the fence, I want to clarify that there are no graphic depictions of self harm, and no graphic depictions of abuse. In dialogue and narrative they are alluded to, and talked about, but descriptive violence is a minimum, relegated to consequential injury due to mostly stupidity. Discretion is honored, a free choice, and respected!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And I'm sorry for us  
> The dinosaurs roam the earth  
> The sky turns green  
> Where I end and you begin"
> 
> ["Where I End and You Begin", Radiohead](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3ZUQMBD5yI)   
> 

Perched close to the edge of a rickety stool Dr. Geiszler stared deep into the yellowish murk of the tank in front of him. Lost in thought of recent events, he idly chewed the cap of a black permanent marker. Most of his writing implements met the same fate, marred by scientific prowess. It was a nervous habit; “utterly disgusting”, as described by the man's longstanding colleague whose own pens and pencils could not escape the same treatment.

Much to the physicist's horror this habit ultimately resulted in the sequester of a precious set of pristine Biros and yellow Hbs. So were the instruments covetously locked up in a drawer of the oak desk Hermann's father had shipped to the Lima Shatterdome. Newton could never understand the superfluous, positively superficial substitute for paternal affection, but he never said a word about it either. After the wall fell, the time for such comments had already long passed.

Like most of the pens on his desk, Newton had begun to crimp the stem of the Sharpie's cap into submission. The plastic curled outward like a gnarled vine reaching out toward nothing, but the repeated torture of sharp bicuspids. No matter how many times he was lectured on the sanitary disregard of his oral fixation, Dr. Geiszler listened to no one. His hours were long, and in the throes of stress-induced nicotine fits it was probably the least damage the biologist could do.

Newton should have felt relief right about now. He should have rallied up equally as sleep-deprived pilots, techs, mechanics, soldiers, custodial staff, cooks, medics, everyone. He should have been pouring shot after shot of contraband alcohol down his gullet, he should have found his calloused fingers smartly dipped against the length of the old Gibson he'd only ever played in the privacy of his own dorm. But here he sat at –8.37am—in a quiet lab all by himself, chewing on a goddamn marker. A medium that lent him decorum from skin to nail over the years, now to disguise the few gray hairs the biologist since desperately denied the existence of one ugly morning when he was thirty-three. He bit down. Hard.

Newton felt old, not until this moment acknowledging he had spent nearly a decade chasing after the Kaiju and now, they were gone. All that remained were the specimens of ambiguous fate that lined the walls around him. However, the lingering alien memories that flashed in and out of the biologist's mind could never be taken away. Once already while sitting in the company of Mutavore's brain fragment—which was inexplicably still moving—Dr. Geiszler experienced a lapse of consciousness, thrust into an azure landscape, waking up to a fresh spot of blood on his shirt that thankfully wasn't any more discernible than those from the night before. He was already being pressured too much into seeing a doctor. He's fine. It will dissipate, in time. He's fine.

The heavy door to the lab opened to the department's only other hand, taking in the sight of his colleague who looked no more different than he had since converging in the rubble-strewn streets of Hong Kong. It worried Dr. Gottlieb, who leaned heavily onto his cane, freshly showered and clean-clothed in contrast. His concern dare not pass beyond his incessant nagging for Dr. Geiszler to see an actual medical doctor, no matter how many times Newton claimed a medical degree.

“Dr. Geiszler.”

Though muffled, the sound of teeth on plastic made Hermann cringe all the same.

“Dr. Geizler?”

Patience waned.

“Dr. Geiszler!” the terse voice boomed, accompanied by a resounding clang of the physicist's cane on solid steel. A twitch and a sidelong glance cued attention and Hermann, not once straying from the door, nodded towards the other man. “It's almost nine, the press conference will be starting shortly, with or without you. And quit chewing that bloody thing. I do not need you spewing ink from your mouth like some squid.” True to his word Dr. Gottlieb turned and began to make his way back down the corridor. Nearly stumbling over himself to catch up, Newton tossed the marker in the direction of his desk. He bit his tongue—ink is released through the anus—and wiped the spittle from his lips, evening out his pace once in stride with his lab partner.

 It had been only a few hours since the closing of the Breach—a little more since their shared drift event. Newton felt a change. His colleague on the other hand painfully no more different for it. Early as it was, Dr. Geiszler was sure that he was the only of the pair dealing with lingering effects. It had to have been the biologist's solo-Drift with a severely damaged brain segment. There was no buffer, no filter, no selfless accessory the first time. If Hermann were indeed suffering similarly there would be no end to how vocal he would be, no delay in how fast the two scientists would find themselves in hospital poked and prodded enough to make Newton scream. So for now, the ghost-Drift remained the biologist's little secret.

A faint hint of smoke rolled over the water of Victoria Harbour, a ghost of last night's attack on Hong Kong City. In the foreground a semicircle of eager reporters converged on the deck, their cameras and microphones reached high above the sea of bobbing heads. By the time Hermann was able to usher his lab partner outside, the press conference had already begun. Camera flash accompanied the crowd's low murmur as the scientists entered the staging area. The crew and remaining Jaeger pilots could do nothing but tiredly smile while LOCCENT officer Tendo Choi recounted the details of Operation Pitfall. In mourning those lost; Tendo requested a moment of silence, but the conference inevitably moved on.

“Without their continuing scientific contributions to the PPDC, whose to say we would be standing here this morning?” the officer's voice amplified. “We all owe a great thanks to the two men who had their fingers on the pulse. Doctors Hermann Gottlieb and Newton Geiszler.” Tendo stepped back from the temporary podium, making room for the two scientists to share a few words. His encouraging wink went unnoticed by Newton, shoulders slumped, and eyes on the floor.

“Thank you, Officer Choi.” Hermann cleared his throat, and awkwardly adjusted his posture to better speak into the bouquet of microphones. “To have worked alongside the men and women of the Pan Pacific Defense Corps has been nothing short of an honor. However, it must be known that I would have never thought to entertain the fact that one scientist so...” a thoughtful pause took over, glancing over to his daydreaming, disheveled colleague. “So innovative, would selflessly risk his own life in the pursuit of knowledge.” He paused again to consider the plausibility of using such a descriptor for his partner before continuing. ”Furthermore, the discovery of the Rift's vulnerability would never have been possible without the support of Marshal Stacker Pentecost. Suffice it to say, the Marshal—”

Newton heard none of this, as he stood just behind his more eloquent colleague. It was not as if Hermann would have let him step up to the podium, considering the state that he was in. He wouldn't care to try. It surely would have been in poor taste to represent the PPDC in soiled, torn clothing. The glazed, disinterested look he knew he wore was so far from professional. In Dr. Gottlieb's opinion, Newton knew nothing of the word.

Newton's focus slid to the harbor, and before him the water blurred to an inky cerulean. In his mind, he traveled to a distant place, full of large beasts and impossible machines. Dr. Geiszler had never seen Kaiju like these before, their terrifyingly large forms antagonized by their smaller taskmasters. However, a group converged upon a single point. What lay between them, it was unknown, but the fervor was overwhelming. Keen to the growing anger, Newton felt a fire in the pit of his stomach, a sensation of terrifying potential, bursting.

“Newt, Newt,” a snap. “Hey, brother.”

A silhouette became a hand.

“Newt, you alright? We kind of lost you for a minute. You haven't said a damn thing since you got here. Rock-Star life not exactly what you anticipated?” Tendo chided and clapped a hand onto his friend's face. The impact sent Newton reeling a little too far, much to the dismay of the officer who nudged him back upright before the man lost his balance completely. Dr. Geiszler touched his mouth with the back of his hand. The blood looked so bright this time.

“Geeze, man, are you sure you're alright?”

Tendo leaned in to the scientist's face, and when his hand moved to grab the man's right shoulder, they locked eyes. Beyond hemorrhage they shone; glassy, wide, dilated, and vibrating with intensity. Tendo inhaled a sharp breath through his teeth and straightened out. “I'm taking you to the med bay, brother.”

“No, stay here,” Hermann placed a hand on his partner's left shoulder and began to guide him back into the Shatterdome. “We've done our part. You're conducting the press quite well, I'll deal with Dr. Geiszler.” Exchanging a nod with the officer, Dr. Gottlieb slowly led his colleague off as Hansen stood in, addressing the crowd in fresh plaster, his gruff voice slowly fading from earshot. For once, Hermann's three-legged gait was faster than his colleague's.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Fake concerns is what's the matter, man  
> And you think I ought to shake your motherfucking hand  
> Well I know how much you care"
> 
> ["Christian Brothers", Elliott Smith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Laby3lFjKD8)   
> 

As a man who treasured peace and quiet, Dr. Gottlieb never had the chance to discover its weight. The Shatterdome lacked its usual buzz, free from the hive-like maneuvering of the staff. The PPDC had deployed most of their own hands to lend humanitarian aid, salvage what could be salvaged, and ultimately rebuild the areas most affected by the Kaiju's landfall and the subsequent engagement.

Shepherding along an uncharacteristically reticent lab partner, Dr. Gottlieb tried to make sense of the pieces of their post-Drift relationship. Had they both expected something different? Perhaps they had, but what exactly? Hermann hadn't a clue. The world around him felt so much the same, but his interactions with Newton, entirely too alien.

For the time being, all Hermann had wanted was for the biologist to immediately check himself into hospital after their raid on LOCCENT. Fate has removed the choice from Dr. Geiszler's hands. Looking back at the lagging figure of his colleague, Hermann could barely slow his pace enough for the man to keep stride with his own fatigued steps. He opted instead to keep ahead, ushering him around corners and keeping him in line with their destination. As the pair reached the clinic's foyer, Newton barely made it past the first row of seats before claiming one for himself.

Content with his associates choice of seats Dr. Gottlieb stepped up to the front desk. In a generic PPDC issued desk chair, sat the young woman in charge of admissions. Her familiar , broad smile and friendly tone brought Herman a modicum of comfort.

“May I help you?”

“Yes, I've brought my colleague to see a physician, if possible. Name: Geiszler, Newton.”

With a nod of affirmation, the woman pulled up the relevant patient information on her console, her finger depressing ENTER with a flourish. “A doctor will be with you shortly, feel free to take a seat.”

Newton cracked an eye, his entire body slumped into the chair. If not for the arm rests he surely would have taken the liberty of melting into the adjoining seats. In taking the reigns of his exhaustion, he attempted to don an air of machismo, and straighten his back. It didn't work, and the biologist oozed further toward the floor. Rolling his eyes, Hermann took the seat one over. Drift notwithstanding, Dr. Gottlieb felt it necessary to continue a pointed physical contrast to his peer, he was sure to maintain his own perfect posture.

Since the two scientists joined the Pan Pacific Defense Corps' scientific think-tank, every day they blindly pushed forward. Over time the answers began to grow in number, but the Corps' research teams had not fared well. Consolidating and downsizing as they moved Shatterdome to Shatterdome, there came a time when only two made it to Hong Kong. A true war of attrition from his perspective, as inevitably the number would soon reach zero.

Perhaps it was too soon to give way to such thoughts, but the physicist couldn't ignore that he hadn't so much as written a single digit since the night before. His prediction models sat unfinished, open equations across his blackboards having no further urgency to be solved. He was thinking too much, influenced by the sedate atmosphere of the hospital and zombie-like figure next to him. With an deep exhale, Hermann willed himself to banish the thoughts from his head.

“Newton?”

An older woman stood at the sliding glass doors to the right of the admissions desk. Her professionalism kept her smiling at the battered and blood-caked man shambling in her direction, but Hermann could see a slight twitch bloom above her left eye as Newton passed her. The physicist shared a sympathetic glance with the doctor before following his colleague through the door.

Down a quiet corridor the pair followed the physician, her clicking heels guiding them to a small examination room where Newton wordlessly perched himself at the edge of the exam table. His hands crinkled the thin layer of paper under his thighs. Herman made a quiet note of his colleague's discomfort, comparing it to his own iatrophobia. Newton clutched the edge of the table as he tightly gripped his own cane. A side effect of the drift? Perhaps. Shaking the thought from his head, the physicist cleared his throat.

“I'll just have a seat out here...” Dr. Gottlieb shut the door behind him.

His curiosity was maddening. Sparing no effort to ignore what was being said in the other room, Herman knew it would be incredibly more difficult to try. From what he did hear, nothing out of the ordinary was exchanged, nothing unusual beyond typical procedure though the medical doctor was the only one intelligible through the wall that separated them. As words lulled in and out of an undecipherable whisper, the physicist took to staring at the floor through tented fingers.

The ambiguity of Hermann's discomfort made it difficult to determine whether or not the emotion was his own or Newton's. They were Drift compatible; two neurally-harmonious bickering masterminds. How caustic, but deep down it made perfect sense. The two survived to the last moment through the sheer devotion and acumen they both committed to the PPDC. Their opposing disposition was the outlier, clearly visible for all to see for nearly a decade.

Having witnessed firsthand nearly every team that ever piloted a Jaeger, there was always the inexplicable dance; each pair working in perfect tandem, or in the case of the Wei brothers, triplicate. Raleigh and Mako took to one another almost instantly, sparring so well in the Kwoon neither could land a hit until Mako knocked the other off his feet at the last second. Should Hermann have already experienced this with Newton? Would the biologist know the next time a chalk nub was hurled towards the back of his head, to catch it without a glance like some psychic mutant in the comics he reads? Hermann would not entertain that thought, surely impossible, but yet?

The physician stepped out to pause in the jamb, cause for Hermann to stand and see Newton sliding off the cot. Beside him a tray sat littered with forceps, tweezers, a threaded needle, and bloodied gauze. Hermann balked at the sight, before it was obscured by Newton's thin frame. Dr. Geiszler was a spectacle with his hair a tangled mess, glasses broken, and bandages wrapped around his head. It was enough to convince anyone he was unfit to do much more than sleep for the remainder of the day. The doctor soon confirmed as much. Hugging the tablet to her chest she addressed the two as they stood side-by-side.

“Well, it was certainly an eventful evening, wasn't it? I want to thank you both for what you've done, I'm sure it was a difficult choice, but...” she pursed her lips nervously. “I doubt I'm the first to say that if you didn't, we might not be here today.” Hot around the ears, Hermann could only muster an awkward smile, deepening her laugh lines in turn.

“If either of you encounter any strange symptoms do not hesitate to come back. In the meantime I do strongly suggest that you two make an appointment with Dr. Caitlin Lightcap. Above being interested in hearing of your experiences, she will help with any,” she rolled her right hand mid-air, “emotional side-effects you might have questions about.” She had hit the nail on the head.

With another exchange of gratitude between both sides, she disappeared around a corner, leaving the two men to their silent trip back to the 'Dome proper.

Unable to outright read his partner's mind, Hermann fell back to the time-tested method of scientific exploration, and simply asked his partner a question.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Wonderful.” It took a moment for the word to come, hoarse and reserved following his silence and introspection.

“Oh please don't start with me.”

Newton didn't entertain his partner's reply, they just continued to walk. Reaching the foyer Newton let out an embittered sigh. “Congratulations.”

Hermann became incredulous. “What are you on about?”

“ _What am I on about_ ,” Newton mocked, accentual. His voice, though still slightly above a whisper, became increasingly loathsome and punctuated. “I bet you're so pleased to see your inept partner finally punished for his stupidity. Sorry I didn't keel over the first time.”

When Hermann stopped to retaliate with his own dose of venom, it dawned on him what his partner just apologized for. Bitter and dripping with more ennui he had ever experienced from the man. It was shocking, genuine or not. Though he felt as if he shouldn't take his words too seriously, considering his current state. Removing his glasses Newton palmed his eye sockets and roughly swept his hair back. Argument was forbidden. A different approach had to be considered.

“Regardless of what you may think my feelings are on the matter, I hope you're aware of how your decisions last night helped end the war.”

“As reckless as they were.” Hermann finished in his own mind. From the look of pained acceptance on Newton's face, he could tell the biologist had appended the half-compliment in much the same manner.

Just outside the reach of the bright lights of the waiting room Dr. Geiszler paused, wrapping his arms around his torso. Chewing on his bottom lip he met Hermann's gaze for the first time that morning. “That may be the nicest thing I have ever heard you say about me, but I wasn't the one who saved the world.” His smile was just as sad and depreciating. “Herc and Chuck, Sasha and Aleksis, Stacker, Mako, Raleigh, the triplets.. they're the heroes. I'm only a cog in the machine, just doing my job, dude...”

“Yes, well, if it isn't for cogs the machine wouldn't function, now would it?” There was no suitable rebuttal. They started to walk again.

“Lunch should just be coming out now,” Hermann mused.

“If the cooks haven't jumped ship already,” Newton added. It was the first hint of Geizsler's humor all morning.

“Come, the doctor said you need to eat. Admittedly, I am quite famished myself.”

Without the energy to protest, Newton resigned yet again to follow his colleague in the direction of the mess hall. The warm aroma that imbued the corridor as the pair approached was a welcome sensation. Normally the food smelled and tasted both bland and questionable, but it had been a long morning for them both, for everyone. Their perception had been skewed towards desperate and downright ravenous, and food in any shape or form would be a gift. The hall bustled with the most activity seen throughout the Shatterdome in hours. That too was a gift. At the tables familiar faces sat in groups; myriad languages collectively contributing to the lively cadence. Walking into this felt normal, like home.

In the distance LOCCENT's own eccentric officer flit table to table, talking to each group briefly before moving to the next. It wasn't long before he took notice of the motley pair that stood framed within the large entrance, and jogged his way over to meet them.

“Hey!” The sight of a lucid Newton Geiszler was pure relief. “How you feelin', bud?” Tendo asked between sips. The officer was rarely seen without at least one coffee mug in hand.

“I'm good, thanks,” Newton weakly smiled; a sufficient enough answer, as things could have been much worse.

“Fantastic, brother. Well, I've been running around letting people know that tonight, here,” Tendo motioned down towards the floor with emphasis, “we're getting our party on.”

The trio walked together through the cafeteria toward the kitchen. “So rest up; I expect to see you tonight.” The officer refilled the two mugs with a carafe and looked pointedly at Hermann. “Especially you, Hermann, don't be a stick-in-the-mud.”

The addressed raised his brow, plating a spoonful of mixed vegetables on his tray. “Considering I have nothing better planned for the evening, I'll be here with bells on.” Satisfied in roping the reserved Gottlieb into into his scheme, Tendo delivered a snap and a wink in the physicist's direction.

“Excellent! Excellent... There's gonna be music, dancing, and alcohol,” the last specifically emphasized, considering the shortage of the substance in recent years. The three regrouped, and scanned the floor to find an open table.

“Besides, the reason I'm orchestrating this whole shindig is that everyone here has worked so damn hard. We need to let loose, you know?” Finding an area toward the back of the mess hall, Hermann settled adjacent to his partner and across from Tendo, who with gusto, set the two full mugs down on the table, sloshing a small amount of coffee across its surface.

“Last night was admittedly a bit heavy,” the officer stated, dabbing at the spill. “In my mind, the best way to pay tribute to everyone—Chuck, Sasha, Aleksis, Stacker...” he trailed before finishing, “is to celebrate.”

Herman nodded thoughtfully, slowly working his way through his plate as Newton nursed his cup of coffee. The group briefly fell into silence. Tendo took a sip from one of his mugs. “So, yeah! How are the rock-star scientists?”

“Well, to be quite honest, life doesn't feel much different.” Hermann continued to polish off his lunch, mildly annoyed that Newton only had a cup of black coffee and one meager pastry. Between sips, staring pensively into the mug a foley roar growled from Newton's back pocket. Phone in hand, he stood from the table.

“I gotta go.” He downed the remaining drink with a twisted smirk, and bit a sizable chunk from his danish.

“You can't be serious, where are you off to?” Hermann let his fork rest on his plate.

“Out.” Newton stated, but not without bidding Tendo and Hermann a simultaneous goodbye, hurriedly making his way through the cafeteria and out of the mess hall before he could be stopped. Adopting a severe expression, Hermann's slitted eyes focused on his partner's point of egress. “I swear to God I am going to murder him,” he said factually, lips pressed into a fine line. Tendo shook his head and decidedly changed the subject. “What are you up to in the meantime?”

Dr. Gottlieb sighed and sat thoughtfully. Up until this moment his purpose was to ensure the health and safety of his colleague. Before that, calculating events, but that task was now moot. Thinking back upon the words of the medical doctor, it might be the best use of his time this afternoon to rest. Yet, he was restless. How could he sleep while Newton was on some impromptu field trip?

“I'm contemplating a visit to Dr. Lightcap,” he lied, before finishing the last piece of soggy broccoli on his tray.

Tendo nodded and started to work on his second mug, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “You know, that's a great idea. I'm sure she'd scream to hear about an experience drifting with a Kaiju. A shame Newt ran off so fast, though.” It was true, Hermann would have preferred to make an appointment with his colleague. It was Dr. Geiszler's expertise after all, the Kaiju. However, this would allow him time to assess the experience and list off any concerns he'd like to address specifically.

“Well then,” Hermann murmured, having neatly stacked his dining ware onto his empty tray, “I'm going to take my leave.” Standing, he balanced his tray and cane in one hand with practiced ease. “Right.”

Tendo stood as well. “Going to continue to spread the word about tonight,” He stated simply. Empty mug in each hand, the officer gave his friend an honest look. “You promise you will be here tonight? Nineteen-hundred sharp,” he stated, his tone as stern as his brow. Hermann knew he needed to give himself some time to loosen up. Lord knows it had been far too long since he'd let himself go to any semblance of unbridled frivolity. If it where to happen, tonight would definitely be the night.

Hermann nodded, “I promise.”

With a wink, Tendo saluted, coffee mug to his head, and continued to saturate the whole of the Shatterdome with his verbal invitations. Left in the wake of the officer's enthusiasm, Hermann deposited his tray and set course for the barracks. On the way the scientist's mind lined up memories and scenarios that made themselves relevant during the Drift.

Removing his shoes and depositing his blazer on the back of a desk chair, Dr. Gottlieb readied a spiral notepad and pen before resting his cane against the foot of his bed. With a heavy weight, he succumbed to his protesting body, lying flat on his back against the thin mattress. Pad and pen perched upon his chest, hands on his stomach, Hermann laid staring up towards the ceiling of his small room. His body craved sleep, but his mind persuaded him otherwise, staying awake to note anything that plagued him.

Like walking around a room, there were things that rang familiar, but he honed in on the unfamiliar. They weren't so much complete memories, but fragments. Hermann recognized fear, pain, isolation, stippled with a sense of wonderment and discovery. More isolation, more pain, and more awe. It was all manic, like a Pollock painting in violent monochrome.

Hermann never went fishing, though he could attest to hiding in quiet nooks to read, stacks of tomes towering over him, but his library was that of his father's. The physicist never went clubbing, never partook in illicit substances and certainly never had relations in a graffiti-scrawled bathroom. Hermann's own skin was clear of needles, but had been under the knife, if surgically—these were the most fragmented memories, difficult to recall, but most assuredly not his own. They seemed intimate, in a way, like peeking through a closed door, eavesdropping on a hushed conversation. He would rather not dwell on them.

There was nothing specific worth noting, but as a list the emotions appeared in Gottlieb's scrawled handwriting between leaves of equations. In the words of Tendo, it was 'a bit heavy'. The physicist's brow knit in consternation.

He sympathized with the difficulties of late-stage pilot training. On the whole, the weight of Newton Geiszler's memories made Hermann feel, fractured? The true words eluded him, and a description would not come. His weariness shackled his wrists, and he placed the pad and pen on his bedside table. Checking the clock, there was time for him to take a brief nap. Not bothering to turn the light off, Hermann removed his glasses and allowed the subtle white noise of the fluorescent fixtures hum him to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chugging along! Thanks for the kudos, I hope you stick along for the ride. Now, where did Newton go...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I can't understand this at all  
> I can't pronounce this at all  
> These are different matters  
> These are uncertain feelings  
> These should never be discussed  
> So keep it to yourself"
> 
> ["Hated Because of Great Qualities", Blonde Redhead](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5v-ytQ9GaQ)   
> 

Hermann recalled a point where Newton made mention that sleep helped to reset serotonin levels. At least, he remembered the biologist had said something to that effect... He said a lot of things. Early in their career Hermann had been dragged by the entirety of K-sci to some off-base dive bar in Anchorage. That night Dr. Geizler had been called a walking, talking, _Fun Factoids_ book. He took serious offense to the word 'factoid', brandishing a studded tongue.

“Didn't you know the suffix -oid is Ancient Greek for 'similar, but not the same?'”

He couldn't keep his mouth shut about the signs of drought and fire in the wood grain of the bar, how carbonation expedited the effects of alcohol, the structural weak points of glass bottles, and no, that head above the jukebox was not that of an elk's, but a caribou... Impressive at first, but the novelty wore off fast.

By the end of the night Dr. Geiszler walked back to the Shatterdome with a split lip and black eye. Apparently Harley enthusiasts don't like it when their bikes were called over-hyped works of mediocre engineering, but Newton would never risk his safety if he didn't believe the facts. There was no reason to doubt him about the serotonin.

The siesta helped soften the events of the morning. However, the notes taken earlier stared Hermann in the face as he checked the time on his bedstand. Sitting up the notepad was flipped closed, pushed aside, and Hermann redressed. There were just under two hours left until Tendo's party, and by force of habit the physicist made his way towards the lab.

It came as a surprise to hear so much activity echo down the hall of the Shatterdome's research division. Even in their busiest days barely anyone made the effort to walk to the far end of their remote branch, yet now the distinctly syllabic exchange of Cantonese took ownership of their last sanctuary.

With caution, Dr. Gottlieb slowly rounded the entryway. A group of flamboyantly dressed men and women crowded the lab—sitting on his desk, in his chair, leaning onto his chalkboards and shamelessly rifling though his things. Unsure of what to make of the situation, Hermann stood dumbfounded in the threshold until a thunderous noise caused him to jump and lose grip of his cane. It clattered loudly to the floor, cuing the entire room to take notice. Clutching the doorjamb Dr. Gottlieb fought the primal instinct to run, standing stock-still as every single eye trained upon him. A few in the room habitually hovered hands over their hips. Hermann could have sworn he heard the subtle click of a safety release, but he would rather avoid entertaining that suspicion.

A familiar voice barked an order in the foreign tongue around a specimen wall. Whatever it was Dr. Geiszler spoke caused the team to settle somewhat, but their collective gaze still focused more menacingly than Hermann was comfortable with. With a wave of a hand the team dispersed. One-by-one the men and women filtered out of the room, each meeting Hermann with an intense stare. One even picked the cane up off the ground and handed it back all in one swift motion. The last of the crew took up the rear with an empty dolly, and like that, they were gone.

Barely having moved, Hermann looked to his partner, blissfully focused down upon an array of trays and jars. Irritation and confusion carried Dr. Gottlieb into the lab, past the partition on the floor pent up with enough aggression to violate the one rule he repeatedly tried to enforce. It took all of his willpower to withhold rapping his cane repeatedly against the back of Newton's head, so Hermann took a moment to find his voice with the help of a single deep inhale.

“What, pray tell, was that all about?” he gesticulated wildly, though his movements went unnoticed. His nostrils flared in the wake of the lingering funk of cologne and cigar smoke.

“New specimen shipment,” noted the biologist, forceps in hand to tenderly move a small tissue sample to a glass jar.

“Rather small shipment for such a formidable crew, you would think?” Herman bitterly assessed. Moving the jar close to his face to inspect the sample, it was mildly infuriating that the acrid smell emanating from the container did not offend Newton's senses in the least.

“I would really appreciate an explanation as to why you would consider it even the slightest bit pertinent in obtaining new Kaiju specimen, let alone invite the bloody mafia to deliver it right to our doorstep! We are no longer at risk of another Kaiju attack if you would care to remember; the Breach was closed last night. However, the risk of getting shot or stabbed is still a very real threat and I would prefer to remain unassociated with your shady dealings.” Dr. Gottlieb's rant nearly ran him out of breath.

Without missing a beat, Newton began to count off on his fingers. “Okay, for one, they are not the Triad, they are smugglers, drug dealers, gun runners, launderers, and black market opportunists.”

“Oh, well I feel safer now after hearing all of that, thank you...” Hermann pinched the bridge of his nose in disgust, half from Dr. Geiszler's flippant naiveté, half from the sting of formaldehyde.

“Besides, I think they are more afraid of me, to be completely honest,” Newton mused, tightening a black lid onto the jar.

“What gives you that notion?”

“Well, what I gather from my experience in the slums this afternoon, everyone is under the impression that I told Otachi's infant to eat Hannibal, who is not dead, by the way, surprise surprise. So overnight I've become both a boogey-man and Kaiju prophet, depending on who you ask.”

Hermann raised his brow. “How...? Oh, nevermind... What is all this, then?” The physicist was afraid to do more than wave his hand at what looked to him to be pallid uncooked table scrap. Newton raised an anticipatory hand, a secretive smile playing across his lips, and took a step towards a sizable mass covered in black tarpaulin. Like a magician, he revealed it in one smooth motion.

“Say hello to Scunner.”

Hermann's jaw lay slack, unaffected by his colleague's gusto. His mouth motioned for words, but at first none graced him with their presence. “You can't be serious...” It came out no more than a whisper.

“I'm as shocked as you, dude. It's completely intact and so well preserved considering it was nuked to death. I can't imagine the effort put into retrieving it, but Chau's men have their ways. I'm most thankful for how well the cold ocean water helped mitigate any degradation.” After circling the tank Newton tenderly laid a hand on the glass, an enchanted look in his eyes.

“No...” Hermann shook his head. “Did it ever cross your brilliant mind what this thing was directly responsible for? Dr. Geiszler, this is unnecessary. This should not be here, not in our lab!” He was shouting now.

Crestfallen, Newton messily draped the tarp back onto the tank, his excitement clearly lost upon his partner. “Of course you wouldn't understand,” he glowered.

“Well there better be a bloody good explanation if you'd care to entertain me.”

Newton walked back to position himself behind the cooling table, picking up the specimen he just preserved. “There's still a lot I need to learn. What if they come back?” he sighed, rolling the object delicately between his hands.

“If it's that important to you then why not consult your library?” Dr. Gottlieb spitefully gestured around the room at the collection of jars and tanks in varying unappetizing shades of yellow, green, and brown. The physicist was never a fan of the conglomeration of viscera his partner so very affectionately hoarded. It had always been disturbing décor, but was humored for the sake of science. Lacking a clear purpose, that tolerance was waning.

“That's the problem,” Newton jumped out of his reverie and began to tour the lab. “You see, all of these are requisitions from prior researchers. Years ago when the events only started to happen smugglers and scientists haphazardly began collecting these. At the time they had little understanding of what they were.” Newton paused to wipe at a dusty glass tank labeled:

TRESSPASSER, SAN FRANCISCO, 2013

(DIENCEPHALON)

“At first they thought they were arthropods, based on the Kaiju's durable, chitinous armor, but anyone with a brain stem could see that they're vertebrates.” The biologist slowly removed the tank from its home on the shelf, hugging the dusty container to his chest.

“Their tough plating... wasn't an exoskeleton,” he huffed under the weight. “Their skin is covered in scutum, like an armadillo's plating or an alligator's tough skin.”

Depositing the large jar gingerly in the center of the steel table, it made contact with enough force to vibrate everything near it, including Hermann.

“They preserved these all wrong.” There was a hint of exasperation in Newton's voice as he combed his hair back. To his colleague's horror, the jar was was suddenly opened to release an overpowering stench of pure formaldehyde, stronger than Hermann had ever experienced. A sound escaped from the mathematician, a hybrid curse as a hand quickly met to cover his mouth and nose. Acknowledging the man's visible discomfort, Newton re-affixed the lid.

“Nearly everything you see here was handled carelessly. They may look pretty, but their usefulness was severely compromised from the moment these specimens were harvested.”

Hearing the word 'pretty' to describe pallid organs was not something Hermann could relate to, but Newton's frustration with the lack of responsible handling was, however, refreshingly understandable. He had rarely seen this side of Newton, often blocking the biologists ranting and flitting out entirely with the aide of his earbuds, and the impressionistic sounds of Debussy.

“The best that can be done with these is to just look at them,” Newton shrugged. “Ethyl alcohol sucks all the color out and formaldehyde is just a rookie mistake.”

Hermann was lost, giving his partner a searching look. At the best of times Dr. Geiszler prattled on and on in a language only the man himself understood. It was an admirable trait, in retrospect, as Newton never discriminated against whomever was the victim of his excited ramblings. He loved his work; he wore his subject matter. Normally Hermann would dismiss or ignore the man he christened a Kaiju Groupie, but this time maybe he was willing to give the other the benefit of the doubt.

“Have you ever eaten odori-don?”

Hermann's head snapped up. “Pardon?”

“Sushi. Raw squid, octopus. There's a method of cuisine in Japan called odorigui in which squid or octopus is served freshly butchered. When soy sauce is poured on the sushi it seems to come alive. It's actually a reaction between the sodium chloride content in soy sauce and active adenosine triphosphate still present in the fresh tissue.” As he talked, Newton procured a modest 2 amp power supply from a cabinet and began toying with the voltage.

“The first observation of postmortem muscle stimuli was discovered by Luigi Galvani.”

“Galvanism...”

“Right! A similar reaction was seen in humans when Boulogne administered faradic shock to live patients, allowing him to observe the contraction of their facial muscles.”

“Not exactly my cup of tea, but I am familiar with the concept.” Dr. Gottlieb wrinkled his nose in recalling the photographs he'd seen long ago in a textbook from his college tenure. Yet, the conversation was now beginning to steer more towards the realm of physics, something of which Hermann was able to contribute. In witnessing Newton posed with an electrical probe in each hand, his stomach sank as he began to connect the dots between the topics of conversation.

“Please, Dr. Geiszler, tell me you're not familiar with the works of Mary Shelley...”

Newton barked out a laugh, not helping to quench the mad scientist aesthetic.

“No, no. I'm not trying to create Frankenstein's monster, and if I did have all the component parts, even I would still consider it a bad idea. What occurred to me, though, is the property of salt water. Such a simple concept I almost feel ashamed to admit it slipped my mind...”

“Conductivity?”

Newton nodded enthusiastically. “I'm about to test out a potential solution for permanent specimen storage and longevity of interactive research. Like I said before, all of these other samples are stored in a highly concentrated alcohol or formaldehyde base; effectively fucked. I've mixed up a custom batch of formalin diluted in brine with a pinch of sodium bicarbonate to take some of the edge off. I figured the Kaiju are demi-aqueous and the tissue will react well to the salt water, considering how well preserved that brain is. The conductivity is an added bonus.”

Nodding at the small specimen jar he prepared when his partner had first walked in, Newton slowly submerged the probes into the solution and the tissue began to wriggle, mimicking a leech's movement through water. Newton seemed quite pleased with the squirming piece of flesh. Hermann, not so much.

“I must admit, Dr. Geiszler, I am utterly and thoroughly disturbed by what I am seeing right now.”

Only here in the lab did signs of Dr. Geiszler's trademark personality start to surface, making it all to easy for Dr. Gottlieb to fall back into old patterns. Instead of a new acidic blue streak across the floor, Newton backed off. Where he would have normally lashed out, he retreated into himself. There had been moments like this on their worst days. At times Hermann would go an entire week trying to relish in the silence that he found himself in, but thanks in part to the Drift he knew what the silence really meant. Hermann almost wished he didn't. It only spawned more questions, and inevitable conversation.

The power supply was flipped off. Dr. Geiszler wandered off, brooding behind a nearby specimen wall. Herman sighed, tracking his colleague's location through the distorted colored glass that separated them. Normally Newton would take these insults in stride, but their post-Drift honeymoon had only just begun, bringing with it not happiness and relief but spite and confusion.

“Listen, what happened this morning... was disconcerting.” Dr. Gottlieb craned his neck to find his partner focused upon a single tank.

“Dr. Geiszler?” Hermann plead.

“I wasn't criticizing you.” Hermann waited.

“Please say something. I'm no good at this...”

There was movement. Hesitating, Newton wiped at his nose before emerging, taking in a labored breath. “I... Stacker's dead.” The man's eyes glistened as he looked intently at his partner. “He listened.”

Hermann gripped his cane tightly. “ _I_ listen, Newton. I listen to you. I talk while I listen, a flaw on my part, but discourse is so vital to the scientific method that I can't help but interject.” Herman was lost in his colleagues hopeless gaze.

“You never gave me a second chance, more often than not you won't give me the time of day.” Geisler replied, before continuing. “Stacker did, he gave me my first step to where I am today. A lift up from the worst place I'd ever been, and he's gone now.”

Newton settled back at his place opposite the cooling table, eyes cast down, tightening a lid onto the jar of the tissue sample a few minutes prior he had made to dance. The act itself was so simple, but marked a moment of such infinite helplessness.

“I don't mean to offend anyone with...” Newton trailed off, turning towards the tarp concealing Scunner's brain.

“I just know, deep inside, that this is just the beginning. I can't idly sit by and pretend it's all over.” The biologist turned to survey the whole laboratory. “This has been my life for more than ten years, if I give up now... I just, I can't. I can feel it. Them.”

A sigh escaped Hermann, processing his partner's cryptic rationale. “I understand that we shouldn't just abandon this—the PPDC, the Jaeger Program. Even I think it would be foolish to sit back and lower our defenses.” This seemed to ease Dr. Geiszler's anxiety to a degree. Rounding the table at his own pace, the physicist firmly planted a hand upon the other man's shoulder.

“Look,” Hermann noted the biologist's wandering eyes and added verve to his repeated statement. “ _Look_ at me. I understand Hansen is the newly appointed Marshal. If you like, we can talk to him tomorrow about the future of the PPDC. In the very least, our research.” He dropped his hand. “Tonight, however, I want you to give yourself the chance to let this go, if for a little while. We both know how much time we spent in this laboratory, and as much as I hate to admit it, I could use some distraction myself, as you've so eloquently suggested in the past.”

A small smile cracked through Newton's failing grimace.

“Mr. Choi expects us at 'oh-nineteen' as he so aptly put. If you could, finish up here and, please, for the love of God take a shower and change your clothes.” Thankfully Hermann's jibe didn't hit a sore spot as he feared it might.

“Would you like me to wait here for you?”

Newton shook his head. “No, I just need to properly store a few things and I'll go take a shower. I'll meet you in the mess. I know Tendo will kill me if I don't show up.” Nodding, Hermann slowly exited the lab, chancing one last sheltering look back before trusting his partner to himself and his own devices.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a science-heavy chapter, so I apologize for any dubious facts that I may have included... But research is half the fun of writing, isn't it? ;)  
> I've decided to rate this fic M for later themes, just to be safe! And to have an actual rating...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Smiles fill that shadow  
> Your eyes have nothing to say  
> You took me to this party  
> I don't think I should stay"
> 
> ["Is It Me", VAST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbasZbnO44Y)   
> 

“Yeah, I'm safe. It's over... I know. I'll let you know when I'm coming home. I love you, too.”

The wavering voice choked with happy sobs as it echoed down the hall, one of the many phone calls that had been overheard throughout the course of the day. Dr. Gottlieb had yet to sit down and properly call his own family, but his mother had already left an equally emotional voicemail earlier that morning. She had seen him on the BBC from the comfort of their home in Cambridge, as proud as she had ever been, gushing about her son having been on international news. Lars was away on business, but she extended love on his behalf, as she always had as far back as her second youngest child could remember. Dieterich was well, so were Karla and the kids. She pointedly brought up Bastien's upcoming wedding. Hermann had almost forgotten, the last of his siblings was soon to tie the knot. It's almost as if he'd been removed from the real world, in a bubble for the past decade. Strange.

There was no excuse _not_ to attend the ceremony, especially now that the clock had stopped. It was world-wide news now, and she RSVP'ed for him, choosing the filet mignon. Granted, she would have forced his attendance in anticipation of a quadruple, quintuple, even sextuple event, ensuring him a first-class ticket away from chaos. Hermann should have returned the call, but not at present. As much as he would appreciate the comfort of familial discourse, Mutter Gottlieb would talk his ear off.

Thrumming bass vibrated down the corridor, loud enough to host the party well beyond the cafeteria. It was still early. Hermann was never anything but on time, and took a seat in the hall. A couple jogged past hand-in-hand, laughing as they went. Two mechanics familiar from Sydney, he noted. It was incredibly sweet if he were honest about such feelings, but Hermann never had much luck in that department. For years his work took precedence over what he considered petty romance. Dr. Gottlieb never had time for such things, but those musings were only human.

In the Jaeger Program's infancy the junior Gottlieb was recruited by his father to attend a fund-raising gala in London. The affair was posh, its patrons not exactly Hermann's ideal choice of company. It killed him to not only entertain their pretension, but, to Newton's dysphemism, 'fellate' to the tune of six or seven figures. It was for the future of the Jaeger Program, Hermann reasoned to himself, every time he witnessed a civil smirk, heard a dry laugh, or felt a firm squeeze to his ass one time too many. Suffice it to say the evening had been a success, discounting his own bitterness.

Hermann had met there a woman, tall, dark, and well out of his league. So very unapproachable, he had thought, until she laughed, genuinely laughed, appreciating the physicist's thinly veiled sarcasm. She was a model, her father a philanthropist. Her flirtatious nature and keen social skills helped more than Hermann's reliance on the venue's open bar. That night a man of intellect and chastity fell for the wiles of an attractive woman. Hermann was well aware of his stock: fastidious, gruff, abrasive. Physically he didn't consider himself in high regard, but his acumen and wine-addled brain inflated his ego enough to overcompensate for other aspects of his character. Cane and collegiate fashion sense be damned, he was smart, and made her laugh. Having taken his phone out, Hermann called her.

“Oh my God, Herman, I saw you on the telly this morning! I'm so glad you're safe...” she breathed.

“Of course I'm safe.”

Vanessa could hear his cheeky smile over the phone and chuckled. “Cor... I feel like I'm dreaming. Is this for real, Hermann?”

“Please, you're not dreaming, Vanessa. It's over. The Breach was closed.” Each confirmation widened his own smile, as if hearing it himself for the first time. Vanessa hummed pleasantly over the line. “I hope you know how proud I am of you.” Hermann watched as another small group practically danced towards the cafeteria. “I know.”

“Does this mean you'll be Cambridge-bound soon?” The question was hopeful, excited.

“I'm not so sure yet, but I'll be sure to tell you.”

“You better! You need to get yourself out of that lab and have some excitement you old grump!”

“I will have you know that I am actually on my way to a party,” Herman pragmatically stated, summoning an impressed croon from Vanessa on the other side of the world. “Oh là là, bag yourself a hottie tonight, Hermie!” she cheered. Hermann's ears burned. It was positively infuriating when Geiszler used the 'pet' name, but from Vanessa it was far more congenial.

Vanessa's giggling fit had begun to die down enough for her to talk again. They had known each other long enough to trade banter in jest, though the physicist knew her comment was more serious than her crack led on. She sighed contentedly over the phone. “But really, have fun. Miss you, Hermann.”

“I miss you, too. We'll chat again sometime soon, Vanessa.” He waited.

“ _Sure_ we will, as soon as the last time you gave me a rang, Maths Boy.” Vanessa ended their call. Herman choked back a fit of laughter, the evening had started well enough.

Dr. Gottlieb leaned heavily on his cane as he stood, and pocketed his phone while contemplating the state of the cafeteria. The music was getting louder, the droves of people becoming more frequent, and his distrust of Officer Choi's ability to chaperon an entire base's worth of drunk employees grew stronger. He took a deep breath, and followed the next group passing by.

Herman scanned the mess as he passed through the open threshold. There was a large area cleared to accommodate dancers, framed by a few tables to which Dr. Gottlieb made a bee-line. The entrance to the kitchen was cordoned off as an open bar of sorts. A few volunteers manned the area to control the alcohol supply, presumably, but there seemed to be enough spirits to satiate three times the population of the Shatterdome. It could only be result of a concerted effort on behalf of numerous employees' private stocks. Hard times called for hard liquor. There was no guarantee for celebration even if Officer Choi meant for this to be a _party_ party. Too much had been lost, but considering the multicultural nature of the PPDC, drinking had become associated with any occasion.

Hermann wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. Tendo was nowhere in sight, neither were any other old faces to sidle up to. Dancing would be his last choice of activity at any given time, so he opted to spectate from the sidelines as people filtered in, grabbed drinks, and danced in groups until a familiar figure trotted towards him.

“Dr. Gottlieb!”

Mindful of her kitten heels as she dodged through the crowd, Mako revealed herself wearing a patterned black a-line dress. It was the only dress she owned, at least on base. Hermann had seen her wear it on other formal occasions, but it never failed to further transform her into the stunning woman he watched her become. How time flies.

“Hello, Miss Mori,” Hermann smiled, dipping his head slightly. She took the seat next to him at the table, her presence imparting a pleasant floral aroma, reminding the physicist very much of his sister.

“How are you? I have not seen you since this morning. Is Dr. Geiszler okay? I saw you escort him away from the press conference quite...” she looked towards the ceiling, searching for the correct word, “debilitated.”

“He's doing well. I talked to him not long ago while he was in the laboratory finishing some work.” He omitted the why. Hermann was still trying to figure that out for himself.

“You're kidding, he's working?” Her eyes comically bulged in shock. “I hope he's coming, or Choi will probably find him himself. I do not want to witness that,” she huffed, the blue streaks in her hair fluttering away from her face.

“Don't you worry, I made sure he would finish whatever it was he found so prudent and make his presence known. I wouldn't want to have Officer Choi breathing down my own neck any more than you.” Hermann paused. “Besides, knowing Dr. Geiszler I don't think he would ever refuse free 'booze' as they say, or a night of excitement such as this.” Mako giggled knowing of the biologist's reputation but Hermann secretly doubted his words. Newton had been so out-of-touch today it was a possibility the man would hole himself up somewhere, never to be seen again.

Losing themselves in conversation the two talked of the press conference, of Hansen's promotion as the new Marshal, and how Mako was faring with the loss of her adoptive father. She was handling it well enough, especially with the help of Raleigh. There was much more to work through after Stacker's death, but having a Drift partner who had experienced loss himself, her grief was in capable hands.

Mako distractedly looked past Hermann, pausing mid-sentence to offer an ecstatic wave. Almost an hour from when Hermann had sat down, his colleague showed his face after the party had grown at least twice its initial size. In retrospect it was surprising how Hermann and Mako had been able to hold such a steady conversation amongst the rising noise. Having noticed the two of them Newton worked his way through the crowd.

“I was worried you wouldn't come!” Mako's corded arms wrapped his thin frame in an overly ecstatic hug. Newton held her at arms' length, smiling to loudly claim how gorgeous she looked. Blushing, the pilot excused herself, offering to grab a round of drinks for the three of them.

“Sorry for showing up so late, I wanted to be sure all the new specimens were properly stored and labeled.”

Hermann exaggeratedly sniffed the air. “Well I can sense that you've showered, or at least put on a change of clothes.”

“Yeah, yeah...” Newton peeled off his leather jacket, the tear in the shoulder making it a delicate process, revealing a screen-printed Motörhead shirt. The tusked demon head emblazoned across the entirety of the biologist's torso glared through Hermann at face-level. On the job Newton's only compromise was oversized white dress shirts and the same skinny black tie day in and day out. 'Johnny Rotten circa 1977!' he would reason, but the words held no meaning to his colleague. Seeing Dr. Geiszler dressed more casually was flattering, in spite of his musical tastes. The black tee actually fit, contrary to the ill-fitted button-ups that he normally wore, always tucked haphazardly into his pant-waist, giving Newton the sloppiest of appearances.

Diverting his attention from Newton's torso, Hermann made mention of the broken lens perched atop the biologist's nose.

“Your glasses are still broken.”

“Yeah, no shit. You have an optometrist in your pocket? I certainly don't.”

“You don't have contact lenses?”

Dr. Geiszler groaned, tossing his jacket on the table beside his colleague. “No way, dude. You should never wear contacts in a lab God forbid acid fuses the silicone to your cornea.”

It was basic lab safety; Hermann had to give him that much credit. Flinn Science's warnings were burned into his own memory. The most dangerous occupational hazard the mathematician had to worry about, however was inhaling chalk dust at close range lest Newton's work spill over into his side of the room. It happened often enough, but was never truly problematic, mostly a nuisance.

Mako returned, grasping one cup in each hand and a third precariously balanced in between. Newton freed her of the armful to grab two of the drinks, handing the extra to Hermann as he stood from the table. Neither of them quite knew what was in the mess hall's standard issue tumblers, but the smell and small quantity alluded to pure alcohol.

“You brought us shots, Mako?” Newton wickedly grinned.

“Yes! I'm sorry, I could not think of the term, but I thought we could start off the evening with a little something, the three of us,” she beamed. To doctors Gottlieb and Geiszler, she always had a close connection. Loitering in K-Sci, her background in engineering lent to many passionate arguments over the upwards potential of Jaeger strength, tossing hypotheses back and forth with Hermann. Newton, apart from his own learned commentary, helped her with her projects that required more elbow grease than processing power. The three formed an interesting dynamic.

“Kanpai!”

The trio raised their cups in unison, tilted their heads back, and downed the contents in one fiery swallow. Letting out a harsh breath though gritted teeth, Newton tried to hold himself while Mako and Hermann helplessly allowed the alcohol to twist their faces into puckered messes.

“Woah, tequila! Salt and limes, please?” Newton lamented aloud as Mako adopted an apologetic face. “Sorry, there is plenty of alcohol, but not much to go with it, I'm afraid.” Dr. Geiszler shook his head. “No worries, it's like being back in college, am I right?” he winked at Hermann, who shrugged in return.

“Um,” Mako hummed, placing her cup down on the table. “Would you two like to go dance?” She looked towards Hermann hopefully. To get him out on the dance floor would have been a triumph, but from the petrified look that overtook the man's face, tonight wasn't the night.

“No thank you. Although Dr. Geiszler looks like he is ready to jump out of his own skin, I'm sure he'd be a more enthusiastic partner than I.”

Newton of course obliged, taking Mako's hand theatrically, subsequently delivering a raised middle finger with the other at the small of his back as he guided the ranger towards the floor. Hermann scoffed, but smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Party time! Character development on the horizon! Booze! Talking! I don't know what else to say... so, enjoy! ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You burn too bright  
> You live too fast  
> This can't go on too long  
> You're a tragedy starting to happen"
> 
> ["Red", Elbow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMH1UXlM9OE)   
> 

Excluding a few blurry rounds of drunk poker in the break room, Dr. Geiszler rarely engaged in anything substantially recreational. His last non-business outing had been a trip to get fried chicken in Tokyo on Christmas day 2023. That evening was spent in the line of a Shibuya KFC, singing carols in broken English with the locals only to discover there were no more eight-piece Christmas dinners left in any borough location.

Regardless, Satoshi was thrilled to have brought Newton along, the biologist's vegetarianism notwithstanding. As a contingency plan Satoshi brought the biologist clubbing in Roppongi, dancing and drinking themselves to a blissful oblivion before sharing a cramped barracks mattress. A fond memory, for sure, but Dr. Geiszler did not need for tonight to meet that exact end.

Consumed by the heat of the crowd, the music, the bitter sting of tequila fresh on his tongue, Newton excitedly led Mako to the center of the floor. His pulse quickened, taking him back to Tokyo, to his first fake I.D., and the marvelous misadventures it had enabled. He missed this, losing himself within a mass of writhing bodies, the beat too loud and strong to care about anything else. In the past, managing such social situations required a total lack of sobriety, or a quiet corner. Tonight however, Newton had lived and bled with those around him. Everyone danced to free themselves from the past, and Newt danced with them, and he danced with Mako. Newton felt as though he was approaching normal, a feeling that Dr. Geiszler hadn't felt in a long time.

Mako's movements billowed the hem of her dress around her legs as she twirled. Hips swaying, Newton held his arms above his head moving in perfect opposition to his lower half. Hermann had always criticized the man's dancing in the lab, both its presence and of how grotesque it looked. Usually Dr. Geiszler's moves were relegated to moshing and head-banging,arms deep in viscera as far as gloves would allow,to shrill guitar solos and screaming vocals. A closely guarded secret, the biologist could dance. When he wanted to.

A small crowd of young hands gathered with them in a circle. The man looked in his element, familiar with the song playing, while mouthing the lyrics. Whether he was actually singing along was anyone's guess. The dance floor was too loud and densely packed to hear even within close proximity. Newton encouraged the group to coordinate their moves. For an amazing moment, everyone kicked, twirled, and popped together. Just for a moment as no one could keep the same rhythm, but that wasn't the point. Everyone smiled, and danced, and laughed.

 Even from his seat outside of the crowd; subtle finger drumming, foot tapping, and a carefully metered head bob peaked through Hermann's stoic posture. He was rather enjoying himself. It was nice for once to witness his colleague's hyperactivity in an appropriate setting. Dare he add intriguing, but that sentiment would never grace the ears of any person so long as the physicist lived.

 The cross-fade to an even more lively tune dispersed the crowd back to its previous cliques, leaving Newton to guide Mako into an improvised Lindy Hop in an attempt to match the beat. Simply watching them was exhausting, and as the song ended the pair, with taught lips and chests heaving with effort, bowed. Newton took Mako's hand as she curtsied, lifting the layered tulle of her skirt just above her knee.

“They're adorable.”

Dr. Gottlieb jumped at the voice, nearly swatting their three abandoned cups off the table. His hand, thankfully, caught in Netwon's tangled leather jacket and was stayed before impact. He had become so lost in watching Miss Mori and Dr. Geiszler that he hadn't noticed the LOCCENT officer at his back. Arms crossed in satisfaction, Tendo hummed. A large grin stretched his face as he scanned the packed hall. Here he was like a god, or at the very least an agent of chaos; organized, happy chaos.

 “You nearly scared the life out of me,” Hermann exaggerated.

Tendo only chuckled as Newton and Mako approached. Their labored breathing quickly quieted, but their foreheads shone with the hard earned sweat of their joint performance.

“I'm glad I found you guys, care to join us outside?”

“Who's 'us'?” Newton asked, combing his hand through his sweat-slicked hair.

 “Herc, Raleigh, myself, soon to be you three,” Tendo swept his hand out towards the trio.

“Well, would be nice to feel a cool breeze, that's for sure,” Newton agreed as he grabbed his jacket from the table and slung it over his shoulder.

“Shall we?”

Hermann stood, bracing himself on his cane after stacking the three empty cups into his left hand, and motioned towards the kitchen. “I thought I would return these, as a courtesy. Unless you'd all care for another round?”

Tendo raised his palm, “No need, got my own private stock for us. Want us to wait for you?”

Hermann declined with a shake of his head, making his way to the kitchen to deposit the cups into what he assumed was an accumulating pile of dirty drink ware nestled in a cart near the doorway.

The observation deck attached to the far end of the mess was one of many that lined the coastal perimeter of the Shatterdome. Having waded through the growing maze of people inside, Hermann paused to drink in the gentle breeze. He noticed nearby a semicircle of familiar faces, and made toward them. Tendo portioned out alcohol from one of a few bottles clustered at his feet, tossing up his chin when he noticed the approaching scientist. Hermann was handed a regulation plastic cup containing one finger of non-regulation caramel colored spirits.

“A ten year. When I got it, anyway,” Tendo chimed. It was appropriate, a bourbon distilled with the heralding of monsters. Like before, the group raised their cups in unison, collectively cheered, and threw back. Clockwise Tendo refilled each plastic vessel with a small amount of ice and bourbon to sip. Mako stood close to Raleigh, Newton's leather jacket hanging like a shrug across her shoulders. Its owner embraced the crisp Hong Kong winter air, leaning down to lightly pat Max who sat obediently at Hansen's feet. Hearing the pet's appreciative snort, Mako handed her cup to Raleigh and knelt down to scratch behind the bulldog's ears.

“I had a dog when I was in Mass,” Newton broke the silence that followed the shared round of shots.

“You did? I always wanted a dog!” Mako beamed, still very much involved in the softness of Max's fur. Newton stood, slid his phone from his back pocket, and began to tap wildly. Max let out a pitiful whine as Mako stood up to look at what Newton had brought up on his phone. In the photo a young platinum blonde man knelt, a leash was wrapped around his hand while giving a side hug to a large tan husky. Mako grabbed the phone, and zoomed in to view the hound's pale blue eyes.

“Is that yeh boyfriend?” Herc's question was dry, delivered around a mouthful of whiskey. Hermann's eyes widened at the tone of the question, as if hearing a high-pitched whistle. Looking towards Dr. Geiszler it felt as if time stalled, allowing the close and uncomfortable assessment of Newton's nervous reaction as he swallowed the thick taunt, rolling it around in his gut to summon an appropriate and less abrasive response.

“Might as well have been. Bastard never paid for rent, ate all of my food, and took the entire bed to himself.” With the exception of Hermann, the group erupted in mirthful laughter.

“What was his name?” Mako asked, engaged as an amused smile charmed her face.

“King Caesar, Caesar for short.” Newton didn't expect the reference to be understood, and chose not to elaborate as Herc raised a brow. The biologist took a long drink from his cup, looking away when Hermann attempted eye contact.

“I almost forgot!” Tendo leaned down to retrieve a small wooden box from his feet and retrieved a blunt from within, earning a collective look of intrigue from the group. He met them with a shrug and set about lighting it. A flame was difficult to maintain due to the wind, but Tendo's efforts soon summoned hearty smoke which lingered overhead in a fragrant cloud.

The blunt dwindled as the liquor followed in earnest. The group talked amongst themselves, certain affiliations favoring each other. The dynamic however, thrived off of their mutual long-term dedication to the PPDC. Aided by the relaxing breeze and similarly relaxing substances, the group eventually sat before Herc as he recounted tales of the his early days in the corps. Hansen had become a Ranger after a long decorated stint with the RAAF. A widower after Scissure, Herc and his brother became pilots and both had a working relationship with Stacker and Beckett long before Raleigh's return in Hong Kong. Through the early years they piloted the first Mark-1 Jaegers which Hermann and his father helped program. As it were, most had their lives changed by the Kaiju in one way or the other; Tendo lost his grandfather, Raleigh his brother, Mako orphaned. Yet for Newton, the Kaiju had given him something, where they had taken from others. Glancing down at his tattoos, he kept his mouth shut. Within the hour the shared bottle ran dry, and their high had died down.

“Well, I think I should head inside, make sure no one's wrecking the place,” Tendo rolled his eyes. “Here,” he offered an unopened bottle to Newton and Hermann, and one to Mako and Raleigh. “To share,” he winked, and head back inside with Max and Hansen in tow, his stoic and muscled bouncers.

Sighing contentedly Mako leaned into her co-pilot. “If you don't mind, I would like to see if I can convince Raleigh to dance with me,” she playfully chirped, his arm in a grip so vice-like it made the man's brow knit. She giggled, and returned the leather jacket before hugging each scientist. Raleigh offered his own half-hug, half-handshake before the two headed back inside, arm-in-arm. Dr. Gottlieb looked over to find his colleague lazily slinging his arms back into the sleeves of his jacket, passing his drink between hands as he did so. Newton stared up at the sky in a fruitless search for the stars he knew were hidden beyond the blanket of smog. Digging through his coat, the man procured a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He deftly removed one with his lips, and tucked the bourbon in the crook of his arm. The lighter proved finicky, but eventually maintained a decent flame as the cigarette was lit, Dr. Geiszler's back to the wind. The music carried beyond the bay entrance of the commissary, but the lack of conversation was repellent. Around them small groups peppered the deck, leaned against the guardrail looking out into the bay. The surrounding faint chatter was something that didn't come easy to the two.

 “Is something on your mind?” Hermann asked.

Newton mumbled around his cigarette.

“Pardon?”

“Yes,” started Newton, stumbling, “I mean,” he shook his head. “No, wait... Fuck.” He sighed, a hand raking through his hair. Hermann searched his face. This was proving difficult. For years their interaction had been borderline abusive beyond strict professionalism.

“Would you like to go back inside? Or perhaps find a quiet corner?”

Newton nodded in response.

“Do you want to stand against the wall?” Newton pointed. Choosing an alcove the pair settled against the outer wall. Newton bent to place Tendo's gift between his feet. Hermann was grateful for the support against his back, able to forgo his cane for the time being. He cradled his unfinished drink at his midsection, cupped between his hands. Surveying the deck he looked to his right, and found the same couple that skipped past him in the hallway. They were kissing, rather fiercely.

 “Vanessa, yeah?”

Hermann whipped his head back towards the name, ears burning. Meeting Newton's apprehensive face, the physicist sighed into his cup and took a long, harsh mouthful.

“If I hit a sore spot, I apologize, dude. I respect your privacy, if you don't wanna talk.”

Save for a few old family photos on his desk, the physicist kept to himself. Yet, for some unknown reason Hermann did want to talk. Regardless, he was cautious, reserved. Newton took a thoughtful drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke billow from his nostrils.

“May I ask a personal question?” The words were stolen out of Hermann's mouth. Just the exact phrase that had perched on the tip of his tongue seconds before.

 “Ah, sure,” Hermann curiously replied.

“You're engaged?”

“Actually, no.”

Taking his last drag, Newton flicked the butt of his cigarette over the rail and into the lapping current below. The state of the harbor already in complete disrepair, the butt would likely be liquefied by Kaiju Blue before dawn.

“I can only imagine how you know that name,” Hermann mourned, envisioning the biologist hacking into his personal accounts. They were both capable of such things, but assumed sabotaging technology would have been a mutual neutral zone. In response Dr. Geiszler tapped his temple. For a moment the mathematician stood stunned. It was obvious. Newton must have caught at least a glimpse of her. It stood out in his own mind, after all.

“I see,” Hermann stated.

“She must be important to you.” Unsure of Vanessa, Newton tread lightly. He lit another cigarette and finished his current drink. Mirror-like Hermann tipped his own head back and downed the last of his watered down whiskey. A minutely regrettable decision when his face betrayed calm, coughing briefly.

Newton shifted his weight, pivoting to face his colleague. “From what I saw she makes you laugh more than I do,” he cautiously chuckled. Leaning down, the biologist grabbed the bottle, broke the wax seal, and replenished his and his partner's cups. More than a finger each, sans ice.

 “Perhaps she has a more sophisticated humor, unlike yours.”

 Hermann didn't mean to egg his partner on as such, but the liquor had begun to loosen his tongue. Newton stuck his out in retaliation, metal stud clacking against his teeth. “Come on, I swear I saw you smile once.” The physicist considered this thoughtfully. “Yes, I do recall that one time Sasha lifted you up and hung you by your foot from the basketball net.” Hermann smirked at Newton's face. The biologist looked briefly hurt, before launching into a rant about rules and unfair biological disadvantages.

“So what is it that makes you laugh, then?” Newton pushed, crossing his arms in an attempt to look cool and intimidating. It didn't work.

 “Certainly not your immature idea of humor,” Hermann stated, nose tilted upward. Newton took this as a challenge. Squatting, he put his cigarette out. For a minute he said nothing, but lazily sketched in the collected ash from the extinguished butt. Without warning, the biologist raised his eyes to lock his gaze with Hermann's.

“Why did I divide sin by tan?”

 Not prepared for the question, Hermann squinted down at his colleague in confusion.

“Just cos,” the biologist shrugged, the coyest grin on his face as his brows perked up in anticipation. He was backhanded in the shoulder for his efforts, and laughed as he shielded his head. Pointing up at Hermann he exclaimed “You're smiling! C'mon, admit it, that was a good one!” Hiding a smirk behind his drink the physicist shook his head. “Yes, yes, very cute.”

Dr. Gottlieb remembered a few such jokes written in the margins of the letters he received from the man. He also remembered laughing at them. Beyond written word the two scientists had never been able to replicate a similar harmony in person. Cambridge to Cambridge they wrote across an entire sea. It was romantic, in the historic definition of the word. In an age overtaken by electronic communication the two insisted upon the measly price of postage and anticipation of delivery. However that didn't stop Hermann from eventually typing 'Newton Geiszler' into multiple search engines, curious as to why the biologist contacted his engineer father in the first place. He believed the Newton Geiszler of scientific journals to be a different person than the Newton Geiszler of some post-rock Boston-based band. How wrong he was.

The bitterness, more truthfully, jealousy, in Hermann's mind was justified, but Newton had no warning. There had been such an abrupt personality change when the two first met each other in the Academy. Hermann thoroughly rejected the blue-haired punk right off the bat. That day the scrawny, baby-faced prodigy hid deep within his patched olive drab anorak. Hermann didn't see Newton at all for days afterward. It hurt. Never again did they interact beyond brief glances in the halls. Inevitably assigned to the same lab in Anchorage, the ad hominem grudge was well reinforced. Over time it just was, the abrasive nature of their relationship. Soon enough argument became synonymous with Gottlieb and Geiszler, no question as to why it began.

Looking down Hermann saw a small face at his feet, as good a portrait can be given the unorthodox medium. Its minimalist features bore a striking resemblance to Vanessa. He cleared his throat.

“That's quite good, Dr. Geiszler.”

Adding a little more volume to the hair in loose tobacco, Newton deemed it finished, wincing at his popping joints as he stood back up. The artist stared down at his work, taking a sip of his drink.

“Bet you can't wait to see her.”

 It was more of an afterthought, so softly spoken Hermann could be convinced it was his partner's thoughts drifting through his mind. A breeze whipped past, scattering the portrait's hair with it. Grimacing, Newton ground the toe of his boot in the ground, smudging the face into an unrecognizable black streak. Hermann shivered.

“Cold?” Newton asked, placing his cup on the ground to remove his jacket. Hermann was too dumbstruck to argue as he was encouraged to lean forward as the heavy leather draped around his shoulders. Inhaling, smoke and the redolent earthiness of whatever it was Newton wore consumed the man's senses. Leather? Shampoo? A hint of ammonia. Hermann frowned when he saw his partner chortle.

 “What's so bloody funny?”

Newton sweetly smiled. “Ah it's nothing, you just look like a young Brian Bell. You look... good.” Despite having no idea who this Bell was, Dr. Gottlieb catalogued the compliment in silent consideration, and took a thoughtful drink.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I love constructing banter, inserting allusion in interesting ways... So stay vigilant! Keep those eyes peeled!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Looking through a broken diamond  
> To make the past what it should be  
> Through the ruins and the weather  
> Capsized boats in the sea"
> 
> ["Paper Tiger", Beck](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukKOrldCiyQ)   
> 

“Doctor—“ Hermann hiccuped around the title. “Newton... I must ask, if I may?”

Having started with shots, moving to the rocks, and rounding off neat, the alcohol's effects were sneaking up. Lumping Dr. Geiszler's rambunctious urges with the peer pressure of their colleagues, Hermann had never declined the invitation to be social. Not that the physicist drank every time, but when he did, and whatever he remembered of those nights were actually... pleasant. He knew it was the creeping intoxication that made his mouth so bold; without Tendo's gift Dr. Gottlieb would never have been able to hold such a casual rapport with his colleague.

“With Hansen earlier, is there something specific to have prompted that reaction from him?” The anachronistic jibe had haunted the mathematician's mind since that moment. Newton stared ruefully into his drink, lips pulled back in a sneer, and spit out one word:

“ _Arschloch_.”

Hermann nearly sputtered the whiskey from his mouth, but regained composure and swallowed hard. He always held authority in high regard, saluting and addressing with the proper titles, but his partner on the other hand held a more irreverent stance towards his superiors. Hearing their new Marshal called an asshole disquieted the physicist, predictably, but he kept his lips pulled into a thin line; wiping the corners of his mouth, and watching as Newton's demeanor softened. His colleague pulled another crumpled cigarette from the dwindling pack, and fought the wind once more to light it.  
“Sorry, I guess I had to get that off my chest.” The biologist shook his head, then tipped it back, opening his throat to the rest of his drink. Immediately the bottle was snagged from his feet to refill his cup, replenishing Hermann's nearly empty one in the process without a single word.

“Has anything ever... happened, between the two of you?”

Newton coughed around a mouthful of smoke, denying Dr. Gottlieb's presumption as fast as his voice would allow with a hearty and forceful “no!”.

“I apologize, it's only that,” Hermann took a deep breath. “In the Drift, because of the Drift, I sensed pain, and that's a difficult emotion to properly place. Regardless, the Marshal's comment was entirely boorish and unprofessional.” Hermann was frightened that he had overstepped his bounds in making assumptions about Newton's intimate life. “What I mean to say is, I know you have had... relations, with colleagues in the past, and mixing pleasure and work may not have been the wisest of choices considering that—” he quickly cut himself off, discovering how Dr. Geiszler's widened eyes shone, snapping closed as he huffed a dual stream of smoke from his nostrils. The man's stricken expression brewed a few choice words behind pursed lips.

“Gee, thanks for showing such a vested interest in my personal life all of a sudden. Not that you've ever felt the need not to comment on everything I do.” Dr. Geiszler ran a palm up his face. Glasses tangled in his hair he was free to rub the pad of his thumb across his afflicted eye. He thought back to the Academy, waiting in the atrium, feeling his heart flutter when Hermann approached only to have it crushed within an inch of his life. Apparently limp mo-hawks and torn jeans were not befitting of such an institution, but here he stood, for ten long years.

“I mean, fuck. We're chatting like we're good ol' pals when for the past decade we've been the furthest from that. You hate my guts, dude, ever since the day you met me.”

No one ever wanted to acknowledge the elephant in the room, to destroy the delicate balance of K-Sci before they had the chance to save the world. They were safe now, they had removed that fence together, and all bets were off. Hermann's legs buckled. An audible grunt escaped his mouth against his best efforts as he began to slide his back down the wall. Newton fumbled to help the man to the ground as smoothly as possible, allowing his own body to crumple down to the concrete. A cacophony of apologetic pleas spewed from the biologist's mouth, to which Hermann immediately acted to silence.

“Newton.”

“I'm sorry, Hermann, that was really shitty of me. Are you okay? I didn't mean—”

“Newton...”

Normally Dr. Gottlieb would roughly subdue Dr. Geiszler's frantic rambling with a sharp insult or command. However, Hermann found himself dealing with a new man entirely, one he didn't want to insult, instead reaching out to firmly grasp his partner's hand in his own in an attempt to end Newton's self-abating tirade.

“Newton, you need to calm yourself. I do not hate you.”

Had their roles been switched, Hermann knew for a fact that his partner did not hate him. Newton was simply enthusiastic, and when met with such a character as Dr. Gottlieb, did what most would: defend himself. As expected, Newton frowned.

“I know it may be hard to believe, but, it's... all very complicated,” Hermann sighed.

There was no turn to anger, just quiet incredulity. All morning Hermann reflected upon the Drift, the Hivemind, Operation Pitfall. His mind finally had time to process the years spent with the PPDC, and the relationships he had developed. Dr. Gottlieb may or may not have carefully crafted a few words in his mind for those whose company, and work ethic he admired. Preparing to atone for years of verbal and professional abuse towards his intellectual equal, on the other hand, was going to be difficult. Forgiveness was not always a two-way street.

“You're a brilliant scientist.” Hermann squeezed his partner's hand to emphasize sincerity, patting the row of hard knuckles before pulling away. “When you first contacted my father and I, suffice to say I had imagined behind the letters a man of a more... traditional propriety. Who I met in person was not exactly who I branded you in my mind. What I got were piercings, band shirts, a rapid vernacular that was more appropriate for the streets rather than a laboratory. I could not externalize that shock any other way than rejection. The eccentricities I saw on paper were no longer endearing, but annoying. I did not want to believe that such an unprofessional individual could be so brilliant. I felt like I had worked so hard in life, rising up to meet my father, and when I saw you effortlessly fit within the best and brightest scientists and treating it like it was no big deal...it struck a chord. Your intensity, tattoos, flippant disregard for appropriate attire, and penchant for loud music just seemed to fuel my rage the more we worked together.”

Hermann took a moment to register all that he had just admitted to. It felt liberating. Not in an attempt to hurt Newton any further or to justify his behavior in any way whatsoever, but to understand his own insecurities and how they had happened to manifest. Dr. Gottlieb's chest tightened in time to gauge his colleague's reaction. It was solemn, contemplative, enough to encourage the mathematician to continue.

“What I did to you was inexcusable. When I was a child I had been bullied, and I regretfully turned to the same tactics they had.” Hermann began to feel ridiculous, worry his diction came off as disingenuous. He never talked this much. “Upon some well overdue introspection of all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, I believe I can safely say that a lot of my actions as of late stem from pure jealousy. The anger, the stubbornness...” he listed.

It was difficult to tell in the evening light what Newton was feeling, one eye marred red, the other obscured behind webbed glass. The continued silence from his colleague was stifling. Hermann took a deep breath to say, “I feel far from deserving it, but all I can ask of you now is your forgiveness...”

Newton looked lost, trying to find his voice in his drink.

“You're jealous of me?”

All Hermann could do was nod sheepishly, hoping Newton bore witness. He said all he could, anything more would risk turning the man into a rambling fool, a default not befitting of the physicist's nature. He found comfort in the cup of whiskey on the ground next to his hand.

“Wow...”

Hermann's stomach began to churn, waiting for the verbal onslaught he expected would follow, but instead, Newton laughed.

“How the hell did we ever make it this far?” The biologist shook his head, but smiled, and brought his own drink to his lips. Newton shifted his weight to reposition himself legs crossed, careful not to jostle the outstretched pair of his colleague's own, inches in front of him. He looked deep in thought, resting his chin upon his hand, elbow balanced on his left knee.

“I forgive you, Hermann.”

“You do?”

“Why wouldn't I?” Newton expressed. “Ever since we started contacting each other I've always liked you, more than you know, and I'm sure in part that my naïve enthusiasm kept me from walking away.” The biologist took a moment to fondly look down into his drink. “I know that part of you is still there, the you from our letters. Besides, you've just started calling me Newton, maybe I can convince you soon enough to call me Newt.”

Hermann couldn't hide the way he rolled his eyes.

“You're a doctor, Newton. You have six doctorates.”

“I'm human, Hermann. God...” Newton threw his head back in a similar pique.

“As human as you may like to project yourself as being, all I know of you is through academic and professional pursuits. I'm afraid all I know of 'Newton the Human' is tattoos, loud music, and a lingering odor of ammonia.”

“And all I know of 'Hermann the Human' is chalk, sweater vests, and a crotchety temperament. So there.”

For having known each other for so long the most the two knew was how best to push each others buttons. It was a disappointing assessment. Their situation was so unique, so imperfectly perfect the physicist knew there had to be a reason, an explanation, a formula. He bit his lip.

“Well, perhaps because we are so paradoxically different is the reason why we work together so well,” Hermann offered.

Intrigued, Dr. Geiszler's eyebrows raised. The physicist took a drink and cleared his throat.

“My Oma would have said that we are fire and water, that is to say that we balance each other out.” Nodding, Newton made mention of temperance, eliciting a smile from his partner. “Yes, temperance. I've witnessed it much myself, especially in my mother and father.”

Newton's eyes widened, physically crowding the small corner in which the scientists settled in. “Dude, what was it like growing up in the Gottlieb house?” Teasing as his tone may have come across around the alcohol, Newton smiled warmly, eager to listen. “C'mon, tell me about your childhood, man!”

Hermann never entertained the thought of his life being full of intrigue. Regardless, he was willing to placate his colleague's full-on puppy-dog stare.

“I—okay..? My earliest memories of my father were of him working. Teaching, traveling... He loved us, my siblings, and I, according to our mother, though I don't recall him ever speaking the words himself. When we were younger he would dote on us with books and educational toys, erector sets and the like. He wanted to foster in us—ah, my sister Karla, and brothers Bastien and Dieterich, and myself—the intellect and objectivity he valued. We were all enlisted in boarding school in England when we were old enough.”

A languid whistle escaped Newton's mouth, and bubbled into his cup as he took a drink.

“He was hard on us, asserting his disappointment when any of us had a poor mark, but I was rarely in that position. Because of my health I was barred from sport, so I was left with more time to study and took the advantage. I was bullied mercilessly for it, but I became my father's golden child at the expense of my social life.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, dude. Unilateral hip dysplasia?”

Caught off guard Hermann looked towards his partner in a searching manner, swallowing, tripping over words in his wonderment. “Ah, well, yes, precisely... Did, uh,” he pointed to his own head. “The Drift?”

“No, just observation. For one you use your cane on your right side. Secondly, you rub your hip after I see you walk around a lot. In most cases of congenital unilateral hip dysplasia it affects the left side. So, yeah, just a lucky guess.”

“I'm surprised but I truly shouldn't be. It's no lucky guess; you're very astute, Newton.”

Childlike, the biologist beamed at the compliment, unbecoming of any other man in his mid-thirties but it suited Newton just fine.

“Where was I, ah, yes. My father was more than pleased when I chose to study engineering in Berlin, where he had gotten his doctorate. We had lived in England for some time at that point, but I just craved some semblance of separation. I wanted to live on my own for once, out of my father's shadow.”

Newton cradled his cup between his hands, and gazed down towards his feet with a contented look upon his face. “Wish I could have met you in Berlin, though I was long gone before you went to college. Could have hooked you up with some great gigs,” he admitted with a nervous chuckle.

“Well, I wasn't in Berlin for terribly long. After I finished my bachelors I attended Cambridge University to work towards my doctorate,” Herman explained. “At the time I was helping my father program the first Mark-I Jaegers, so much for separation.”

Soaking in the mathematician's story, Newton posed a serious question. “Did you feel pressured by him, your father? I mean, do you think you would have worked for the PPDC if he wasn't a founding engineer?”

Hermann answered rather quickly. “No, I always loved maths. Though I am ashamed to consider preferential treatment as my father did establish the program. I'm sure your parents did the same for you, though.”

Beginning to shake his head before Hermann had even finished his last statement, Newton uttered his disagreement. “I'm the product of musical stock.” He jabbed his thumb at his chest, a slight lilt in his words.

“Oh, the irony. Did your mother pressure you with Julliard?”

“She might have, I wouldn't know.” Newton emphasized with a hearty shrug, nearly sloshing his drink over the edge of the cup.

“Pardon?”

“It's a long story...” Newton exhaled a breath hard enough to puff his cheeks out.

“Well, I certainly have the time to hear it. I shared my childhood with you, after all.”

Newton's brows knit nervously. “Right, right...” he slowly articulated, settling himself back against the wall, taking another sip from his drink before settling it on his knee. He contemplated another cigarette as he fished out his pack, but set it and the lighter to wait on the concrete close to his thigh. Audibly scratching at his stubble, the biologist cautiously chose his words before he forged down memory lane.

“I was raised by my Onkel on the outskirts of Berlin. I don't really remember my dad, and I never met my mom.”

Like the beginning of some maudlin soap opera Hermann sat silently engaged, eyes focused upon the man sitting next to him. Not even through the Drift had this knowledge expressed itself. In bits and pieces, perhaps, but now Newton was about to fill in all the gaps of the worrisome imagery and emotion Dr. Gottlieb mulled over at least once in the past day.

“What little details I know is that it had been a nasty shock when she discovered she was pregnant with me. It severed the affair with my dad almost instantaneously, and when I was born she left me with him and that was that. It destroyed my father. All I remember of him is how I would overhear him crying, how angry he got... The only time I ever asked him about my mom he hit me. I never asked about her again.”

Newton grabbed for the pack next to him and struggled to keep a flame lit with shaking hands, setting the pack and the lighter back down as smoke began to roll from his mouth.

“Um,” he took the first large drag.

“So, I lived with him,” he exhaled, “until I started to go to school, public school.”

Newton looked down, past the concrete, to somewhere else he'd rather be.

“And, uh, I was suspended before I even finished my first year.”

Newton took another drag, ash accumulating, going unnoticed until it fell off by its own weight.

“I was violent, disruptive.” The words were barely audible, mumbled like an afterthought. Hermann had to pursue.

“What do you mean? You were hurting people?”

“God, no! No no no...” His eyes were desperate, looking for forgiveness he didn't even qualify for. Sighing, he clarified. “I was hurting myself, alright? My only coping mechanism at that point was to hurt myself when I felt sad, frustrated, lonely...”

Dr. Geiszler suddenly transformed, and shrugged with an air of callousness. His treatment of the subject matter now disturbingly disengaged, punctuated by shrugs, lopsided smirks, and nervous chuckles. These details of Newton's life had been left in the past. A brick in a long-buried foundation that constructed the manic mad-scientist persona, not as affectionately inspired as people would care to realize. He continued.

“At first I was just taken aside, told to calm down, but it just progressively got worse. The last straw was when I was found under a table with a pair of scissors.” Tongue loose from the evening, he loudly exclaimed, “Contrary to popular belief, safety scissors aren't as dull as you think!”

Newton wiped his hand on his thigh.

“I'm sure that my dad was happy to have me taken off his hands, not so pleased about the circumstances, but...” Newton trailed off, shrugging helplessly. “C'est la vie. Qué será, será, life goes on. After spending a short amount of time with a foster family my Onkel adopted me.” At mentioning Illia, Newton's disposition visibly warmed. He hummed, lost in the past. “I remember when he first came to get me. I was so afraid of him,” the biologist laughed. “As gentle as he tried to be his voice was still so loud, I just wanted to hide.” Both Newton and Hermann took sips of their whiskey in unison.

“Not long after he took me in, maybe a week or so, I remember he was in the kitchen making dinner. I was in the living room. His house hadn't been 'child-proofed' so I was surrounded by all these instruments and pieces of expensive audio equipment which I, of course, immediately took an interest in. He turned his back on me for like half a second and I somehow managed to disassemble a mixer. He walked in to tell me dinner was ready and saw me surrounded by wires and circuit boards and switches all over the floor and just looked totally dumbstruck. I started to cry and...” Newton chuckled. “You know what he did?”

Hermann was afraid to ask, and could only shake his head slowly.

“Onkel sat down on the floor and showed me how an audio mixer works. We spent the next two hours putting it back together, and he never once scolded me for it. Yeah dinner was ice-cold by the time we were done, but from that point on I wasn't afraid of him. Never took apart his equipment ever again, though, not without his permission at least. I think it was then he realized that I was more of an independent learner—catching frogs in the lake in back of the house, fixing broken clocks and radios, teaching myself how to play piano, reading the stacks of instruction manuals he had lying around the house. He decided to home-school me, and by home-school I mean take me with him on the train into the city every day and drop me off at the library until he was done with work. It was a little unorthodox if dangerously irresponsible, but I couldn't imagine spending my childhood any other way. I don't think there is any book in Berlin's Staatsbibliothek that I didn't have my hands on at some point. Well, except a majority of those awful, saucy romance novels. I learned I didn't quite like those pretty quick.”

A painfully large smile tugged at Hermann's lips, and when the two met eyes the pair howled out in laughter, long enough to forget what was even funny in the first place. They wiped tears from their bright red faces and nursed their now painful grins.

“Um, yeah... So anyway, eventually I was just free to study whatever I wanted. Onkel trusted me enough to pursue my own projects because by the time I was ten I pretty much exhausted every home-school curriculum that was thrown at me. I was contacted by MIT after they came across a website I made documenting random projects and coding and shit. God, I hope that site doesn't exist anymore, you'd totally make fun of me... Anyway, I got offered a full scholarship. It took a long while to convince Onkel to let me travel halfway across the world by myself, but he came around. It was hard as hell but I don't regret it, ever.”

Hermann could only guess at how difficult it was for Newton to be so young and in college if his own boarding school experiences were anything to go by. In actuality, as Newton explained, in facing similar social constraints Hermann fell prey to the same recipe responsible for how he ended up a scientific prodigy: boredom, lack of intellectual peers his own age, and a thirst for knowledge.

It took a moment for the account of Newton's life to fully sink in. The silence accompanying Hermann parsing his thoughts and feelings visibly made the biologist express a growing anxiety, driving him to idly pick at the frayed knees of his pants out of nervous habit. Newton uncomfortably laughed, continuing to stare down and play with the worn denim.

“Ah,” he stumbled, “I probably shouldn't have... shouldn't have said all that shit, probably freaked you the fuck out, huh?” Newton still hadn't looked up from his own leg. “I mean, I get it, I understand if you don't want to work with me, or, or see me again. It's cool, we probably won't have to see each other again after this...”

Hermann was taken aback.

“Quite the opposite, Newton. If nothing more I feel closer to you. I feel honored that you would feel comfortable enough to share everything you just told me. I only hope you don't feel any remorse having done so.”

Dr. Geizsler bit his lip and chanced a look up to validate his partner's sincerity, clearly marked by a genuine smile spread across Hermann's wide, froggy mouth. Newton returned it in kind.

“Thanks, dude. I, uh, I really meant it, before... I've always liked you, and respected you. It just kind of sucks that this—“ he whipped his hand between them, “thing only just happened because I really appreciate having you as my colleague. But...” he trailed off.

“But, what?”

“Well, it's over as far as everyone else is concerned. I don't want to stop my research, I have a feeling I can't. It's like... a nagging voice in the back of my mind that they'll come back, you know? It just can't be this simple.”

“Of course.” The physicist took a sip from his neglected whiskey. “If you wish, I would be more than willing to accompany you to see the Marshal to bid for more time. However, that should probably be best left for tomorrow.” Newton nodded. For the first time since the previous night, perhaps in years, he truly looked relieved.

“Yeah, tomorrow. Not a good idea to go about this drunk, would probably not even remember anything in the morning if we finish off this bottle.” Newton looked at his drink, swirling the contents of his cup.

“You know, there's actually this phenomenon, that when you drink too much, the alcohol prevents neurons from communicating with the hippocampus and—”

“Newton.”

“your brain completely stops recording memory at all so—”

“Newton?”

“Yeah?”

Hermann leaned back into the wall behind him with a contented look upon his face, and told his partner: “For the love of all that we as scientifically minded persons do hold dear, please be quiet and finish your drink.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this characterization isn't too disagreeable. Many people have different interpretations of what little we do know about these two's pasts... I personally like the dichotomy that even in a large, well-off family Hermann has to deal with Lars, and even though Newton had zero family he had a kick-ass, loving uncle. What can I say, I like balance!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Senseless seeings  
> Realised beings  
> Watch me, around here  
> A square there, but be near"
> 
> ["Mend These Trends", South](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLHmIClpjjE)   
> 

Mid-morning the day after Pitfall found Dr. Geiszler awake in the mess, oblivious to the hordes of hungover PPDC workers and personnel as they made their way into the cafeteria with the hopes of securing a late breakfast. Unlike those milling about, in true rock-star and biologist fashion, Newton knew how to stave off a wicked Katzenjammerr: ignore the painful throbbing while consuming mass amounts of coffee. Besides, the biologist found himself in a worse predicament upon waking than a racing headache. Kaiju were persistent, and the nosebleed equally nasty.

Newton situated himself in a quiet corner of the hall expressly to maintain a steady flow of caffeine while he read. He had left a note for Hermann in the lab, but so far the biologist had yet to see the man. The night before the two scientists talked until 2am before succumbing to exhaustion and alcohol. He was too eager to sleep, regardless of the fact of it being the first and only six hours of rest he had in nearly two days time. The scientists planned to meet with Hansen as soon as possible and, God willing, convince him not to let the last vestiges of Kaiju research disintegrate. In the meantime, Newton worked on his fifth mug of coffee.

“A bit of light reading?” Tendo had two modes: sneaky, or overwhelming, as loud as the PA system he often abused for his own amusement. The officer leaned over to glimpse at the contents of the book splayed out on the table like an heirloom Bible.

“ _Principals of Neuro Science_...” Tendo read the title slowly, eyes squinted, a mixture of intrigue and bemusement in his pronunciation. Newton turned in his chair to look up at the man.

“Brushing up on some stuff from college. Crazy how I kept all my textbooks. Shit's expensive, dude.”

“Yeah, well, you got me, brother. That stuff is way over my head.” The LOCCENT officer raised his eyebrows as he bit a large chunk from the bagel in his hand, sitting down at the table.

“It's not over your head, it's in your head,” Newton smirked, pointing at his own temple, but the word play was moot. Tendo only paused his chewing and gave the scientist a blank stare. Newton cleared his throat.

“It's, uh, a joke...”

“Riiight,” the officer drolly responded, his voice muffled by the mouthful of food. He swallowed. “So anyway, I heard you and Hermann really got friendly last night.” The comment was obscenely suggestive, a clear ploy to rouse the tired biologist. It didn't quite work.

“Geeze, Tendo. I don't know who your informants are, but you're getting the wrong intel, dude.” Newton rolled his eyes and began to turn his attention back to the book on the table before being roped back in by the gossipy man.

“I mean, they weren't wrong, were they?” Tendo leaned in, perched on the edge of his seat, crowding the biologist enough to effectively prevent any attempt at concentration. Newton sighed.

“Well, no, not entirely... We just talked about growing up, school, you know, getting to know each other a bit more. None of what you're daydreaming about with that one-tracked mind of yours.” Newton shook his head at Tendo's salacious smile before the man occupied his mouth with the lip of a coffee mug. For a moment they sat in relative silence as Officer Choi finished his bagel, the other quickly skimming through the text to make a note in his ledger.

“Honestly, though, I'm glad you two buried the hatchet,” Tendo assessed, smiling as he clapped a hand on Newton's shoulder, eliciting a reticent grin.

“Yeah, me too...” the biologist mused, briefly paused from the notes he was taking. He looked up to address Choi directly. “Speaking of which, have you seen Hermann at all? I left a note, but haven't seen him yet.”

“Sorry, brother, afraid not. It's still early, though, and watching all these zombies shamble in I wouldn't put it past him to have slept in.”

Newton hummed in thought. By the end of the night the shared bottle had been blissfully empty. He looked at the page, eyes still and focused on no particular passage. He place the pen between his molars and began to gnaw thoughtfully while the officer flipped lazily through something on his phone. Both their coffees were nearly gone.

“Hey, Tendo?” Dr. Geiszler put his pen down, turning away from the book, unable to maintain concentration. “Are you guys still monitoring the trench?” For a moment Tendo kept his attention to the small phone in his hand.

“Yeah, don't see why not. I mean,” he put his phone in his back pocket, “The Kaiju may be gone. In no small part due to K-Sci and your own efforts. If they aren't it's as simple as popping the right coordinates in again. Why?”

Dr. Geiszler almost didn't want to answer. “Do you...” he took a deep breath. “Do you think they'll come back?” Newton didn't explicitly specify the 'they', but Tendo knew. The Officer rubbed his chin. “Brother, they came here in the first place. That was outrageous, but...” Tendo trailed off for a moment. “I don't know, man, anything's possible at this point.”

The pair sat in effusive silence, independently mulling over the possibility that the fate of the earth was still in the hands of beings larger, stronger, and less compassionate than them.

“I'm almost afraid to know why you asked that question. Is there something I should know?” Again, Newton loathed the detail, but eased into it with a hypothetical.

“So, you're aware of the ghost-Drift, right?”

Tendo nodded.

“I got it bad, man.”

“With Hermann?”

“No, no, the Kaiju, dude. I saw some pretty deep shit and it just, like, lingers. I don't know if it's just remnant memory fragments from the solo-Drift or what but when I catch a glimpse of it in my mind it's like... flipping through CCTV channels.” Newton held his head in his hands as if pained by the mere explanation of his experience.

“I saw hundreds of Kaiju. Tons, man...”

Tendo sat dismayed, not at the biologist's dubious memory, but the fact that it's more than likely true. “Is that what caused that nosebleed yesterday?” Newton nodded into his hands. “So... what do you think that means for us?”

“Well, when they first came here the planet wasn't suitable for their needs. Now that it's terraformed to their specifications I don't expect they'd give up. The mantid-like things I saw, the precursors, they genetically engineered the Kaiju for genocide, ours.” Newton became animated, talking passionately and with conviction.

“Imagine you're on an island, right?” The doctor planted one hand on the table, “You see the mainland just a few miles out,” then placed his other shoulder-width apart. “You're hungry, you have little food supply, so you need to get across that span of water. You MacGuyver a boat, start to sail out, but it sinks. You have so much riding on getting back to shore that's so close, so you keep trying to get back, wouldn't you? The Precursors are desperate to take over Earth, but I just don't exactly know why or for what. I can't see them giving up. They've waited hundreds of thousands, if not millions of years for this. The Kaiju have gotten smarter, created to be more adept at pinpointing the vulnerabilities in our defenses. We are at our most vulnerable now, since Tresspasser.”

Tendo frowned at the name. It rekindled memories of San Francisco.

“I get you, brother. I don't want to see that happen again. I'll be sure we got people keeping their eyes open.” Newton smiled, thankful for the empathy and willingness towards the scientist's concerns. He changed the subject, pointing to their empty mugs. “Need a refill?” The officer nodded and stood up while Newton marked his page, closing the textbook to tuck it under his arm. They walked towards the kitchen.

“I'm going to head back up to LOCCENT, check up on the systems and see if any of my crew is awake yet,” Tendo ruefully laughed, refilling his mug and preparing a second he would no doubt consume immediately. “If I see Hermann should I tell him you're here?” The biologist shook his head. “Nah, I'm going to see Lightcap, talk to her about how the Drift went. I'm sure she'd want to know all the juicy details.” With a mutual nod, the two men parted ways.

Newton felt apprehensive, clutching the heavy tome against his hip as he walked, the feeling only building as he stared into Lightcap's office. The door was ajar, the woman sitting at her desk casually typing at her computer. Newton lightly knocked on the jamb.

“Dr. Geiszler! Do I have some questions for you!” Caitlin swiveled in her chair and offered Newton a seat near her desk. She primly folded her hands in her lap, a sharp contrast against her bubbling excitement.

Their impromptu conversation began with a wealth of questions regarding what Newton saw, what the Drift was like, what side-effects either him or Hermann were experiencing, and how and with what on Earth did the biologist use to construct a jerry-rigged Pons System that actually worked. His answers were truthful and detailed, but one-sided. Newton had wanted to share this visit with his colleague, but at least the man could give Hermann a head's up as to the nature of Caitlin's questions when he did have a chance to meet with her. The discussion lasted a little longer than Newton had anticipated. It was just past noon, and he couldn't help but wonder if Hermann was looking for him.

“I truly appreciate you coming to see me, Newton. I'm sorry I kept you for so long but when am I ever going to be able to get a first-hand account of a human drifting with a Kaiju ever again?” Lightcap smiled and saved the extensive file she had typed of their transcribed conversation.

“Yeah, no problem,” the biologist answered with a crooked smile.

“If you ever need anything, don't be afraid to see me.”

Newton had hoped she would make such an offer. A request sat on the tip of his tongue, tentative, as he nervously drummed his fingers to a nameless song. He spoke. “Uh, actually, I do have a favor to ask.”

Caitlin's face lit up. “Absolutely, what can I help you with?” She leaned back, curling a loose strand of blonde hair around her index finger.

Newton kneaded the spine of the neuroscience textbook, the thick cardboard cracking under the torture. He took a deep breath, and made eye contact.

“You think you can hook me up with a Pons?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh snap, Newt. I don't have much else to say. Son, I am disappoint.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Don't do it don't you try it baby  
> Don't do that don't don't don't  
> Don't do that  
> You got a good thing going now  
> Don't do it don't do it  
> Don't  
> Don't try suicide  
> Nobody's worth it  
> Don't try suicide  
> Nobody cares  
> Don't try suicide  
> You're just gonna hate it  
> Don't try suicide  
> Nobody gives a damn"
> 
> ["Don't Try Suicide", Queen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dn2z19QnEfQ)   
> 

 

Hermann could count on one hand how many times he'd been hungover. He lacked the experience of impulse and overindulgence, but perhaps that was good. Overcome with a dull ache that radiated from his head down, he reluctantly sat up with a groan and planted his feet on the cold floor. Blearily rubbing the crust from the corners of his eyes he silently prayed the action would rid him of his dreadful headache. A hot shower was his second attempt, pure placebo. It loosened his muscles well enough to convince the man to dress and make his way to the laboratory.

As Dr. Gottlieb approached the hall leading to his shared workspace, he expected the usual unbearable tones of the 'Industrial' music his partner was so very fond of. He was disappointed not to find Newton owning the space, but thankful nonetheless for the silence. His headache was still present, and for now the man appreciated the peace for what it was. On his desk Hermann found a small hand-written note, one that stood out from the stacks of typed equations, reports, and code. It read:

                                                                   “Hermann,

In the mess catching up on some reading. Come find me!

                                                                                                                              -Newt”

Below the message was a drawing of his colleague, sitting and reading a comically large book surrounded by towers of coffee mugs. Hermann smiled as he examined the doodle, folding it and putting it into his blazer's breast pocket. He turned and made his way back out of the lab, motivated by the concept of food. Feeling strangely philanthropic, he first head towards the med bay. If Hermann knew his partner well enough the man was more than likely still suffering through a broken glass lens, and if memory served him right the clinic was stocked with a modest supply of standard military-issue eye-wear for such emergencies.

A few people scattered the hospital foyer, cradling their heads, hunched over bins taken from elsewhere in the Shatterdome. A sickly sweet stench hung in the air which Hermann tried desperately to ignore. Hanging his head low with a hand to his nose, he made a bee-line towards the desk. He found no one there, craning his neck to take a look around, expecting someone to be hiding around a wall. Perplexed, he pivoted to look through the glass doors into the infirmary proper and eyed an empty hallway. From behind, someone dry-heaved. Hermann let himself inside.

Meandering the halls, looking around corners and into rooms he found no sign of any soul that wasn't pitifully moaning, doubled over, and otherwise indisposed. Pausing in a junction the man huffed in confusion.

“Well, long time no see, Dr. Gottlieb.” Opting for flats today, the doctor from the day before sneaked up on Hermann without a sound. She looked slightly rushed, but was otherwise pleasant and happy to see him.

“Forgive me for intruding, but no one was at the desk,” the mathematician apologized.

“Not a problem. As you can probably guess we're a little busy this morning. What can I help you with?”

The request that followed, a pair of glasses for his lab partner, sparked amusement in the doctor's tired face.

“I see, I just assumed he had an extra pair. If you don't mind waiting here a few minutes I can get someone to fetch them for you.”

The woman sat down at a console and brought up one GEISZLER, NEWTON in the PPDC medical records. Flagging down a passing orderly, she requested he make the run to the supply room. Hermann swore he looked relieved to have been given the task, having the opportunity to escape tending to patients that hadn't been able to exercise self-control.

“Thank you for your patience, he should be back in a few minutes. Give Dr. Geiszler my regards.” The woman gave a curt bow and made her way around the corner with purpose, leaving Hermann to his thoughts. Cursed with boredom his gaze traveled around, falling upon the computer, tempting the scientist's attention. Newton's file was still open. Curiosity got the better of him.

Intent first upon learning the details of Newton's post-Drift examination, the further he read through the medical history, the further he scrolled. The screen then blanked. Timing out, a prompt for administrative log-in appeared, pending in the middle of the screen. Hermann leaned back, his balance dependent on his cane as he stood rigidly in place. A moment later the orderly returned, none the wiser, handing a clear labeled baggie to the scientist.

“Here you go, not the most fashionable thing in the world, but, it gets the job done,” the young man sheepishly smiled, then faltered at the blanched, sweaty face in front of him.

“Um, you don't look so good, you're very pale. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to sit down?”

“Oh, no. I'm quite fine, thank you. I, uh, think I just heard someone, em, vomit.” Hermann stuttered. Thanking the orderly, the scientist quickly left, hiding the guilt painted across his face. It was the mathematician's shameful habit to fib, to snoop, having grown up with his siblings, and the damage was done. Holding his breath through the waiting room, Hermann emerged back into the halls of the Shatterdome, gasping for air. Looking back with a hint of paranoia, he sighed, and began to hobble toward the mess.

The cafeteria looked as if nothing of the previous night had ever happened. The space where Mako and Newton danced was once again filled by tables. Hermann scanned the room, but found no sign of his colorful lab partner. Counting it as a loss, he made his way to the kitchen to rectify his hunger.

Sitting alone he ate, thoughts consumed by what he'd read, repeating itself like a nagging voice inside his head. Dr. Gottlieb heard rumor of such circumstances in the Academy. Self-destructive behavior was cause for discharge, but Newton was a genius. Simply too valuable for the military to let go, but kept on a short leash. On the outside Dr. Geiszler was just eccentric, ebbing through highs and lows like the changing of the tides. It wasn't as if Hermann didn't believe it, no. The truth was simply hard to swallow.

Finishing his lunch, Hermann made his way to deposit his tray when he caught Officer Choi wave from the opposite side of the kitchen. “Hey, Hermann, how's it hangin'?” Tendo asked, stirring his coffee. The scientist cleared his throat and bid him a late morning. “I was left a note from Newton telling me he was here, but I'm not quite sure how long ago that was.” Around a mouthful of coffee Tendo affirmed, then swallowed. “Yeah. He left a while ago, said he was going to see Dr. Lightcap, but he's probably back at the lab by now. He asked that I let you know if I saw you.”

“I see, thank you Mr. Choi.” Hermann stood awkwardly, not sure of where to proceed as his mind had been occupied by grim thoughts for the better part of an hour.

“So,” the officer began, “I heard you had a good time with Newton last night?” His repeated comment at first failed to have the same effect.

“Newton?” Tendo chuckled, noticing how distracted the mathematician was. Perhaps his jibe _was_ having the same effect.

“Yeah, you and Dr. Frankenstein.”

“Yes, I did. Enjoy myself, that is. I actually got the chance to know Newton beyond his academic life. It was a rather... humbling evening.” It took a moment for Hermann to find the correct word, careful to dance around the exact nature of Dr. Geiszler's past, familial and otherwise. Considering Tendo's softened demeanor it may very well have been that he knew of the biologist's tendencies as well. The thought pained Hermann to imagine the officer being Newton's only confidant, on either side.

“Well, I'm glad. Newton can be a bit much to handle at times, so,” Tendo clapped a hand on Hermann's shoulder, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. “Be patient with him, okay?” The scientist nodded. Somehow this cryptic exchange made Hermann feel better, experiencing a silent solidarity with the man in front of him. If the medical records were accurate, the lengthy history was testament to Dr. Geiszler's strength. “And, uh, know that I'm always around. For you both. You two are like brothers to me.” Tendo awkwardly stumbled around the words, but Hermann got the gist.

“Oh!” The loud interjection frightened a passing worker, sleepily fixing herself a coffee at the beverage bar. “I almost forgot, Hansen needs to see you. Seemed important.”

Dr. Gottlieb raised his brow. “When was this? He needs to see me immediately?”

“I just saw him before I got here. He wants to see you ASAP, but it wouldn't kill him to wait. I'm sure if it were that important he'd track you down himself. Don't worry, I don't think you're in trouble,” Tendo added with a wink.

“True, thank you very much, Mister... Tendo,” Hermann corrected himself. He'd known the officer for a number of years, he should have been on a first-name basis with him long ago, but old habits die hard. Tendo smiled.

“You should probably pick up Newt on the way. He told me you two wanted to talk to the Marshal together.”

Hermann nodded. “Yes, I should probably be on my way, now. Thank you, Tendo” The two bid each other farewell, going their separate ways.

As Hermann made his way back into the research corridor he noted a distant ambiguous thrum of sound. Newton was definitely in the lab. He heard the man absently attempt a duet with Freddy Mercury, attention primarily focused upon working rather than maintaining a decent harmony. Like many days in the past Hermann walked over to the stereo, and turned it off, unable to listen any further to the poppy yet bleak sing-a-long. Without even looking, Newton greeted his colleague.

“Hey, Hermie!” The enthusiastic nickname only made the other scientist wince half as much as usual. Taking the glasses from his back pocket Dr. Gottlieb offered them with an outstretched hand.

“What's this?” Newton asked curiously, turning the baggie over in his hands. Hermann shifted in place as he closely watched the man open the package and toss the plastic towards the direction of his desk.

“Oh, what!” Newton exclaimed, clearly surprised by the impromptu gift. Practically tearing the old frames off his ears, the biologist unfolded the earpieces of the new pair with a more delicate touch, raising them up and onto his face. All the while Hermann's eyes grazed over the alternating lines of highlight and shadow scrawling up Newton's forearms, smartly concealed by patterns of colorful ink.

“Dude, where'd you get them?” Newton asked, oblivious to his partner's scrutiny. Somewhat distant, Hermann tried to match even a fraction of his partner's energy. “The clinic keeps a supply of them on hand for such emergencies.” Newton beamed at the small act of kindness. “Aw, thanks, dude. That's really thoughtful of you.” His sweet and genuine tone made Hermann's heart swell to an uncomfortable level. He felt his face flush, but maintained a sober façade to which the biologist took notice.

“You okay, Hermann?” Newton frowned.

“Yes, yes, excuse me. I'm just tired is all,” Hermann reassured, loosening up, suddenly remembering where he needed to be. “Ah, I almost forgot. Tendo notified me that the Marshal requests my presence. Would you like to accompany me and see if we can't talk to him together?” The smile returned to Newton's face. “Of course, dude. Let's go nip this thing in the bud.” The biologist closed the laptop on his desk, but otherwise left the rest of his work untouched.

Arriving at the lift Newton leaned against the wall, hands shoved into his pockets.

“So,” he started, breaking the silence. “How do they look?”

The new glasses weren't too much different than his old ones. A tad smaller, perhaps. A far cry from the standard thick sienna frames that were phased out of the military a decade ago. Matte black instead of the glossy pair Newton wore previous, the softness accentuated his green eyes in a way that made it difficult for Hermann to choose the words to adequately describe.

“As smart as ever,” he finally replied.

Newton smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chose the song because of how upbeat the song is considering its subject matter. Of course, it's Queen!  
> Now we're getting somewhere. Buckle in, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But I won't sit idly by  
> (Ahhh...)  
> I'm planning a big surprise  
> I'm gonna fight  
> For what I want to be
> 
> And I won't make the same mistakes  
> (Because I know)  
> Because I know how much time that wastes  
> (And function)  
> Function is the key  
> Inside the waiting room"
> 
> ["Waiting Room", Fugazi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMOAXm94VWo)   
> 

Absolutely zero planning had gone into what the scientists were going to propose. No pitch, no requests, no paperwork prepared but, they were professionals. That fact had to count for something; they'd saved the world. This predicament kept the men standing outside the Marshal's office, silently communicating to each other through hand gestures and exaggerated facial expressions. After Newton mimed knocking, Hermann paused, eyes comically wide. Taking a deep and calculated breath, he delicately rapped his knuckle three times on the door.

“You wished to see me, Marshal?” the mathematician asked as he ducked inside. Newton loomed close behind, but kept just outside the jamb. Hansen stood at the Marshal's desk, now his own, its surface still cluttered with Stacker Pentecost's personal effects. The walls were as the late Marshal had left them as well, peppered with military accreditations, his diplomas, and pictures of Mako during various stages of her youth. It was a bittersweet collage. The only change to the room was the addition of a dog bed, cradling a slumbering Max against the far wall.

“Yes, Doctor. You have a visitor.” The Marshal nodded to his right, and a gray-haired head tilted its way into view. Startled, Hermann stepped fully into the room, letting go of the heavy door which slammed into Newton's shoulder with a painful thud.

“ _Was führt dich hierher_?” Hermann wasn't entirely pleased with his father's presence. Taking into account the man's outward delight, the younger Gottlieb was immediately put on edge.

Lars stood, and upon noticing Hermann's bloodshot eye grew worried. “ _Alles okay_?” His son nodded, quickly alleviating the short-lived concern. Trading his frown for a metered grin, Lars initiated a proper reunion. “ _Mein Sohn. Schön, dich zu sehen_.” He crossed the few feet between them and awkwardly grasped Hermann's shoulders. Newton slid quietly into the room, rubbing his upper arm where he had been struck by the door. The elder Gottlieb, upon noticing the unfamiliar face, eyed him up and down with a turgid look; noting the bandages, the matching hemorrhage, the tattoos. Pulling away Lars turned locked eyes with his son.

“Dr. Newton Geiszler,” Hermann clarified.

“ _Im Ernst_?” The elder leaned in closer towards his son to only whisper: “ _Diese Tätowierungen_!”

At the comment Hermann blushed, bringing a hand to his face in embarrassment. He shot a pleading glance towards his colleague, a silent request for the biologist to maintain his nerve. The older man was clearly put off by Newton's appearance, and also unable to recognize a German surname. Newton couldn't help but grimace, pretending it were only the pain in his shoulder flaring up.

“Hello, Dr. Geiszler. I have heard so much about you,” Dr. Gottlieb Sr. greeted that which he barely considered to be a man, his hand extended. A particular look of amusement graced his face, familiar to Newton, having seen the look's twin daily upon his colleague's own. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. The thought was quick, and brought a slight ease in Newton's own tension.

“ _Freut mich. Nennen Sie mich Newt_ ,” the biologist greeted in flawless German. He was especially careful of his Berlin accent, punctuating with an extra firm handshake for added spite. It wasn't simply the tight grip that dismayed Lars, as he lightly shook his hand and laughed in surprise.

“Well, aren't you something?” Newton fought hard not to roll his eyes, backing off and biting his tongue. If for anyone, it was Hermann.

Hansen cleared his throat, crossing his good arm over his sling. “Well, gentlemen, let's get down to business, shall we?” The Doctors Gottlieb took the two seats opposite the desk. The scene looked very much like a time rift had split open, uniting two generational versions of the same man. As much as Hermann had spoken ill about his father and his disappointment concerning the wall initiative, he was the elder's spitting image whether he liked it or not.

“As I was saying, I can appreciate the urgency, Dr. Gottlieb, but as you can see we are all very busy here. I cannot simply pack up and leave on some flighty holiday. I have a Shatterdome to run,” Hansen began, slightly tired and very impatient.

“I understand that, Marshal, but there is very much a demand for a live representative from the PPDC to debrief the events of Operation Pitfall. That's why I believe my son to be the best to accompany me.” Hermann tensed in his seat. Newton stood equally still, beginning to dissect the conversation.

“Our involvement with the PPDC has spanned its entire existence and we are very well equipped with the knowledge to answer any questions on behalf of the Corps,” Lars pushed with child-like optimism, eyes shining.

Marshal Hansen hummed in thought. The two K-Scientists rode on that sound, unable to interject.

“I suppose that can be arranged, if that's okay with you, Doctor,” the Marshal mediated, focusing upon the younger Gottlieb for his approval. Hermann hadn't even spoken before his father exclaimed his joy.

“ _Wunderbar_!”

Hermann and Newton eyed each other simultaneously, one helpless, the other brimming with irritation. Hesitating, the younger couldn't find the words to protest, hemming and hawing, eyes darting from Newton, to Hansen, to his father, and back to Newton.

“May I have a moment?” he plead desperately, standing up from the chair. The Marshal nodded, sympathetic to the scientist's flustered state. As it was, the unannounced visitor slightly inconvenienced Herc all the same. Meanwhile, Lars sat obivously satisfied in his chair, convinced that his son would indeed be leaving Hong Kong with him tomorrow, come Hell or high water.

“Ah, Newton, will you join me outside, please?” Hermann begged. Looking just as lost, Dr. Geiszler followed suit, gently closing the office door behind them. In the hall, Newton broached the subject immediately.

“So, what are you going to do?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest. His tone wasn't hopeful

“Well,” Hermann began, “I suppose I should go.” An upper inflection made it sound more like a question. Hermann was normally a decisive man, but under the shadow of his father found himself contrarily indecisive. The biologist cast his eyes down at the indeterminate answer, aware of his trivial influence.

“This could be a good thing, perhaps, to renew funding to the PPDC,” Hermann offered, trying desperately to convince Newton, to convince himself, that this was a good idea. If the scientist had presence on a public stage he could very well address the importance of maintaining a strong defense. It was a stretch, but only two days ago the PPDC proved successful. The more Dr. Gottlieb thought of the opportunity in that respect, the more optimistic he felt, but Newton couldn't read his mind.

“Besides, I doubt the Kaiju will return.” He saw the hurt in his partner's face, unable to redact the verbal thought. Nothing was enough to salvage Newton's spirit at this point.

“You're the expert,” the biologist countered with a shrug. All Hermann could do was sigh, moving to enter the office once again.

Eagerly awaiting his son's submission, Lars looked rather excitable as Hermann sat back down to launch into his bargain. “If I may make a suggestion, Marshal? I believe this could be an opportunity for the PPDC to regain federal funding. Would you be opposed to that idea?”

Newton trudged back into the room while Hermann spoke, hiding himself against the wall, staring at a portrait of teenaged Mako posed in a black gi.

Hansen audibly raked his hand across the stubble on his chin, intrigued by the mathematician's proposal, and nodded. “I put my faith in you to make it happen.”

Though spoken inauspiciously, Hermann felt encouraged, and was up to the challenge. His father was certainly thrilled as he commended his son's decision with a hearty squeeze to the shoulder. “Brilliant! We shall leave for London first thing tomorrow morning.” Hermann hadn't anticipated such a sudden departure, looking over his shoulder towards Newton for encouragement, but was only met with a halfhearted semblance of a smile.

“Well,” Lars clapped his hands together. “Thank you very much for your time, Marshal. You will not be disappointed.”

The older man rose from his seat, leaning forward over the desk to shake Hansen's free hand. Hermann stood and mimicked the proprietous actions of his father before taking the few steps towards his colleague.

“Are you okay?” he softly asked, barely above a whisper as Lars made idle chat with Hansen. Dr. Geiszler nodded dubiously, staring at a black-and-white photo of Stacker. He visibly flinched at the man's stern face, unable hide the glistening betrayal in his eyes.

“Would you like to join us for food?”

Newton shook his head.

“No, I need to talk to Herc.”

At the slight mention of his name the Marshal's ears burned.

“Should I stay with you?”

Newton weakly motioned towards Lars. “No, go with your father.”

Hermann wanted to stay, wanted to show his support, wanted to prove to Newton that he was not abandoning him. Dr. Geiszler was not okay, but Hermann surrendered against his better judgment.

“Alright, then...”

Without another word, Hermann waved to his father and the pair left the office. Beyond the reinforced door talks of food could still be heard before fading off down the hall. Newton turned towards his superior, walking to the desk. The Marshal eyed the scientist up and down.

“What is it you want to talk to me about, Geiszler?”

“I won't waste your time, so I'll just cut to the chase: I feel the Kaiju are going to come back.”

Another photo of Marshal Pentecost on the desk bore through the biologist.

“You feel? You sound uncertain, Doctor.” Hansen sternly searched Newton's face, the scientist shaking his head in contention. “No, I feel them, their presence. It comes in flashes.”

His hands danced in front of his eyes for emphasis, but it still wasn't enough to sway the Marshal.

“Are you sure it's not just memories resurfacing?” Herc knew a lot about the Drift, trumping the younger man with years of experience.

“They are different each time, like, a weak signal coming in and out.”

The Marshal exhaled and spun the heavy leather chair on its wheels behind him before sinking down into the unnecessarily plush seat.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Hansen liked to believe he was able to take on the role of Marshal, but he lacked Stacker's permeating expertise. For how decorated a military man Herc was, he had a lot to learn about administration.

“If not, I'd like to prove it,” Newton said with confidence, straightening his back.

“How do you expect to go about that?”

Exhaustively taking a seat, Newton leaned forward, his elbows rested upon his thighs, hands clasped together into a large fist between his knees.

“I'd like to Drift with a Kaiju again.”

The biologist saw a pending retort queued on the Marshal's tongue but held up a tentative finger. “I talked to Caitlin—Dr. Lightcap—and she is going to get me a legit Pons, and help assist and monitor me during the test. I also mixed up a heartier solution to preserve a very fresh brain that I got yesterday.”

Hansen sat quietly, and the scientist took the opportunity to continue.

“I highly recommend if it's within our means to salvage as much of the Jaegers as possible. If it happened once, it can happen again, and we do not want to get caught with our pants down.” It took a minute for the words to sink in, rendering Newton nervously swallowing the sensation of his beating heart back down his throat.

“Fine.”

Taken aback by the fastest green light K-Science had ever witnessed, Newton stammered.

“Y-you're serious?”

Marshal Hansen's raised brow provoked a challenge, but the biologist didn't dare contest the approval, and quickly thanked the man.

“I will get you all the necessary paperwork, A-S-A-P,” Newton promised, however the man behind the desk didn't appear too enthused with the prospect of the necessary bureaucratic evil.

“At your leisure, Geiszler. I trust you know what you're doing.” Newton nodded, pleased with their new professional respect. He thanked Hansen again while he stood, shaking the man's hand once for good measure before moving to leave. Max stirred in his bed, yawning and snapping his jaw closed with an audible clack.

“You know, Geiszler,” the languid Aussie voice mused from the desk, pausing the scientist at the door. Herc pat his lap, inviting the dog to clumsily jump up and nestle his muzzle into the man's chest. “If those fuckers come back, they have to get through me,” he stated, preciously rubbing the soft hair around Max's ears. His gaze was directed toward Newton, but it's focus was far beyond him.

“Marshal?”

“As you were.”

The biologist gave a single nod, and closed the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose not to translate the German, I like to believe the dialogue is pretty self-explanatory given the surrounding narrative. Now we know what Newton is up to! Who would have guessed...


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I kneel and wait in silence  
> As one by one the people slip away  
> Into the night  
> The quiet and empty bodies  
> Kiss the ground before they pray  
> Kiss the ground  
> And slip away"
> 
> ["The Holy Hour", The Cure](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k51MTW2Sc1s)   
> 

Newton spent his evening in the lab. Sorting paperwork, writing a proper proposal, the work stretched out to its fullest, most gratuitous extent. It was necessary, yes, a task the scientist never executed in a timely manner, but he needed something to take his mind off of the Gottliebs' looming departure. 'First thing in the morning' could be any time now. The biologist rubbed at his eyes having pulled another all-nighter. It was past 5am, and the cafeteria should be somewhat stocked. Coffee and a cigarette sounded like an appealing light breakfast. Closing his laptop, Newton grabbed his jacket off the back of his desk chair, and trudged out.

There had been no sign of the father-son duo after they had left the Marshal's office yesterday afternoon, nor had Dr. Geiszler made any concerted effort to find them. He was suspicious that Hermann had actively avoided seeing his colleague as well. Yet, for all Newton knew they could have strolled through, unbeknownst to the biologist, who sat all evening tuned out with the loudest, most fast-paced music blaring through his headphones. It was a childish, but mostly harmless coping mechanism.

Few personnel keep the same odd hours. The J-Techs on graveyard, and medical staff generally stayed glued to their positions, rendering the rest of the military base virtually dead. The matchless hum of the fluorescent bulbs that lined the ceiling were Dr. Geiszlers's only consort, and that was company enough for him.

The kitchen glowed, a small crew busy making the first preparations for breakfast. There was time yet before the real cooking began, but, blessed angels the morning cooks were, the smell of freshly brewed coffee beckoned Newton like a beacon in his sleepy haze. Likewise, the biologist saw a very tired and equally disheveled Tendo approach from the dimly lit hall. Yawning, pompadour pressed flat, it was clear Officer Choi was not up this early of his own volition. Still dressed in a pair of flannel pajama pants, his slippered feet shuffled along the floor with each leaden step.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Newton smiled, handing over the coffee he just finished pouring. Tendo took the mug and cradled it in both hands, a muffled moan erupting from his throat as he took the first sip. His eyes were still sleep-swollen, squinting pitifully up at his friend. “Thanks.” He didn't have the energy to contest the nickname, nor bemoan the complete lack of any cream or sugar.

“Come here often?” Newton playfully asked, pouring another cup for himself while letting the little jibe set in. Testing his voice, Tendo cleared his throat of morning phlegm. “Some Tech saw something on the radar and woke me up all freaked out and said he caught something on the spectrograph and said it was big but when I got up there it just stopped and, brother, it's always a whale. A damn whale... or icebergs,” he exhaustively rambled.

“The Bloop,” Newton chuckled.

“The Bloop,” Tendo repeated.

Officer Choi leaned against the counter top, voraciously consuming his coffee after stirring in an unhealthy amount of sugar. “I don't even know why I'm here, all I want to do is get back in bed for a couple more hours, at least.”

“Muscle memory,” the scientist offered, making Tendo weakly laugh. “Yeah, I suppose so, I worship this stuff,” he said, raising the hot drink with reverence up to his mouth.“Whoever discovered coffee should be canonized,” he added after finishing his first mug. Newton knew of the apocryphal origin of coffee, but perhaps the story of a goatherd would best be shared over a drink a little more alcoholic, or when Tendo was a little more awake.

“And why are you up, my dear?”

“Paperwork. Couldn't sleep.” A not-so-simple answer.

“You plan to see Hermann before he leaves?”

“No.”

“No?” Tendo was incredulous. Newton didn't plan to see the Gottliebs off, but circumstance might force him otherwise. He didn't want to admit it, but that was single-handedly what kept Newton up all night. That's what made him nearly compromise his eardrums. That caused him not to eat. That's the reason why a superfluous thirty-plus-page proposal was compiled over the course of the night, and reprinted when his nose decided to bleed on the first hard copy.

“Well, why not?”

Newton shrugged like an indignant child. The officer eyed him impatiently. “C'mon,” Tendo resolved, reaching behind the coffee dispensers to the hidden stash of take-away cups, and planted one in front of Newton. “We're going outside.”

Without argument, the biologist followed the officer through the quiet halls and equally desolate hangar. When they reached the open heli-deck two dressed and armed military personnel, to which Tendo casually waved, were stationed at each side. It was just the four of them. The deck was more sizable than the rest, for obvious reasons, and Newton was thankful for the privacy as he and Tendo made their way to the far end. When the two reached the railing they sat on a stack of empty pallets, listening to the waves lapping against the concrete below.

Newton placed his coffee near his feet and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. Without a word he offered them to the officer, who took one for himself, sticking it loosely between his lips. “You know,” Tendo observed, cupping the flame of the lighter up to his face, “Hermann seemed pretty bummed yesterday.” Newton hummed around his cigarette in acknowledgement. “Did you stop to think he might be feeling the same way?” Tendo was skillful in dissecting Newton's emotions. Granted, there were times that nothing could be done to help the biologist during a particularly bad episode, but the officer was good at gauging that, too. Right now, Newton needed a good dose of perspective, but he had been too single-minded to even consider his colleague's feelings until this moment. Feeling ashamed he pressed his forehead to his knees.

“Hey, hey. What I mean is that he probably feels just as bad having to leave. I know you said that you guys had some research project planned, but he's probably leaving because one: going on this trip could be very beneficial, and two: he fully trusts you to start this thing without him.”

The problem was, Hermann had no idea what Newton intended to do, but Tendo pressed on. “You're a smart guy, Newt, you just seem to forget it at times.” Officer Choi risked a slight punch to his friend's shoulder, content when he saw a slight smirk. Newton didn't say a word, but Tendo didn't need him to. They continued to sit, staring out into the harbor as the city lights danced upon the waves. The cigarettes had long gone out, and the last dregs of coffee gone cold by the time footsteps could be heard behind them. It had been so quiet and peaceful the sudden noise was jarring, especially to Newton, who cursed and immediately downed his cold drink and lit up another cigarette to pacify his fresh anxiety.

A pair of pilots approached the Black Hawk with helmets nestled under their arms. A small additional crew of military personnel milled about, inspecting the aircraft. Newton didn't bother to look, hearing the idle chatter from behind. No voices were familiar enough for him to care. He continued to take deep drags, every once in a while bringing the paper cup to his lips having forgotten it was empty. Sensing the scientist's apprehension, Tendo laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Sit tight.” The officer stood, and meandered back over to the bay.

It was not Officer Choi's jurisdiction, but ensuring the safety of junior and senior Gottlieb was worth the oversight as he eyed the crew conducting their safety checks. Feeling a lack of propriety dressed in his pajamas amidst the small swarm of fatigues, Tendo stood aside, and let the men and women do their jobs under his prying eyes.

From within the Jaeger Bay the monotonous clack of plastic wheels preceded the arrival of the men they had been waiting for. Hermann and Lars walked towards the deck with the Marshal, a young man escorting the three, carrying with him luggage that trailed loudly on the floor behind them. It was now ten-to-seven, the first sign of the sun lighting up the thick sky.

“Morning,” the LOCCENT tech heartily greeted the trio, significantly more awake than he was earlier. Upon noticing the the man's plaid pants and suede slippers, Hermann chuckled and shook his head at the sight. Even Herc couldn't hide his amusement.

“Here to see us off, Officer?” the physicist quipped with an air of false subordination.

“Well, can't rest easy if I don't ensure my favorite K-Scientist has a safe departure now can I?”

“You're such a liar, you said I was your favorite.”

Newton stealthily appeared behind the group, arms wrapped around himself. The man's eyes were glassy with a mixture of exhaustion and apprehension, but he impishly grinned when met with Tendo's melodramatic stink-eye. “Not right now you aren't, you big baby,” Choi claimed, and at that exact moment Newton and Hermann locked eyes. Like a game of chicken they tested their resolve.

“When does your flight leave?” Tendo casually asked.

“We board at nine-forty,” noted Lars as he checked his wristwatch for the time. “So long as we get to Hong Kong Airport by eight o'clock we should get through security with time for tea and a spot of breakfast,” the older man added with a smile so acerbic it hurt.

“Plenty of time, shouldn't take too long to get to Lantau on one of these babies.” The J-Tech motioned towards the helicopter, the doors wide open, its pilots on stand-by but in no particular rush. “Speaking of which, would you like any help with your luggage?” With his hospitality Tendo diverted Marshal Hansen and Dr. Gottlieb Sr. towards the aircraft, purposefully leaving the two K-scientists behind. Newton fiddled with the cup in his hands, carefully breaking the silence between them.

“Uh, hey.”

“You're awake,” the other observed, sounding surprised yet pleased to see his colleague so early in the morning—this morning—after having actively avoided each other for the past sixteen hours. The fault was theirs both.

“I couldn't sleep,” though Newton wouldn't admit why. The biologist hunched his shoulders, arms still wrapped as tightly as ever around himself, the empty coffee cup at risk of being crushed under the weight of his nerves. Hermann let out a sigh, and walked his weary partner further away from the Shatterdome's entrance.

Their pace was leisurely, stopping once they approached the metal banister that separated them from the sea. Turning to face one another, Dr. Gottlieb couldn't help but stare at the other man's glassy eyes. A verdant expanse, brows furrowed with dread. Guilt was not an emotion Hermann was comfortable in feeling. In a moment of complete spontaneity, the physicist reached out and brought his partner into an embrace. Hug was too casual a term in how he clung to his colleague's body. His right hand cradled the base of his Newton's skull, allowing the shorter man to dig his face into the crook of Hermann's neck, shallow breaths warming the fabric of his shirt collar. Feeling the man shake, Dr. Gottlieb buried his nose in his dark hair, breathing Newton in—the same bouquet of smoke, shampoo, and coffee.

“I'm not abandoning this, Newton,” the taller man assured.

A faint crack betrayed the biologist's resolve. His voice came small and mousey, muffled from under Hermann's chin. “That's exactly what you're doing...”

The last statement was barely audible, interspersed with shuddered breaths that rattled through his words. The more Newton shook, the tighter Hermann held him. Both latched on to each other for which seemed like an age.

Inevitably drawing back Hermann noted a tear camber at the edge of Newton's bloodshot eye. Reason far behind him, the physicist extended his right hand. Sliding his thumb under the rim of the biologist's glasses, he delicately brushed along the lash line. He forgot to breathe. Dr. Geiszler didn't cry when he cut through to the bone of his index finger, never when a corpulent sample sprayed him with acid.

“You're going to come back?” It didn't sound much like a question, rather a desperate plea.

“Of course. As soon as I am able.” Hermann wasn't going to let himself be prisoner to his father's public whims. Not forever. The younger Gottlieb had his own plans, but to deny the advantage of his father's influence would be foolish. Especially right now.

From behind, the faint hum of the helicopter's motor quickly turned, gaining momentum until it reached a rapid pulse. The harsh wind whipping against Hermann's face was nearly blinding, the sound deafening. Officer Choi and Marshal Hansen were standing at the base of the craft, Lars waiting patiently inside with their luggage. Against the gust the scientist limped quickly towards the cabin door, addressing Herc and Tendo with a parting salute, wary of the four deadly blades above. With one foot in the craft, he felt a sharp poke to his back.

“Don't forget to write me, you asshole!” Newton yelled, barely audible.

Hermann, having taken the vulgarity as a term of endearment, shot back. “And don't you do anything stupid you bloody twat!” He meant it.

Nodding to the trio on the tarmac, Dr. Gottlieb Jr. joined his father. Before the door slid closed, Hermann stole one last look back at the world he was leaving behind, if only temporarily. It was going to be a long flight to Heathrow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the angst begin! Ringing it in with my boy Robert Smith <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The man who was mortally wounded in war  
> Kept on fighting  
> The man who was cut to the quick by love  
> Kept on loving  
> The man who was merciless tortured by thoughts  
> Kept on thinking  
> The man who was crippled with concern  
> Kept on caring"
> 
> ["Hair of the Dog", Bauaus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ay58K7_sFdo)   
> 

The subsequent silence Newton endured only embittered him and solidified his doubt of Hermann's intentions. Leaving the biologist alone was dangerous. However high his productivity had been, the converse was detachment. The biologist's projected thoughts had not helped him—he hated himself for it—and come morning he elected the loose fabric of a hoodie and flannels to try to forget the dull ache of his skin. If just through daylight hours.

Having migrated with his laptop to the far counter of the lab, Newton hunched on a stool as he mindlessly monitored the effects of Kaiju Blue with different bases. It was the subject of a paper already authored by Dr. Newton Geiszler, Phd. in 2019—he was simply killing time. Humming along to the instrumental track of ”Enjoy the Silence”, Newton idly filled in his nails with black permanent marker.

“Knock knock!” a female voice wavered. At the door Caitlin struggled with a cart whose wheels refused to pass the threshold. Jogging over Newton grabbed the other end of the dolly, pulling it delicately through, and helped guide it across the yellow line to his side of the room. “Thanks, I had to push that thing all the way from the sub-basement,” Dr. Lightcap huffed, leaning on the cart. The biologist opened his mouth. “You should have told me, I could have come with you,” but Caitlin dismissed his hindsight with a wave of her hand. “No worries, I could use a good work out,” she smirked. Observing Newton's casual dress she couldn't help but comment. “When the cat's away the mouse will play, huh?” She must have caught wind of Hermann's absence. Mention of his lab partner made Newton bristle.

Wasting no time Dr. Lightcap launched in to the contents of the cart—an assortment of Pons components that Newton now had at his disposal, to deconstruct and reassemble as he pleased. “There's no complete working system, but considering you made one from junk I doubt you'd have any trouble using what's here. There should be two of everything,” she mused, and with a knowing raise of her eyebrows added, “Well, except anything you need for custom modifications.” Newton thoughtfully sifted through the cardboard boxes, a satisfied look on his face.

“By the way... What did you use to bridge with the Kaiju brain?”

Although somewhat distracted with the wealth of new toys, Newton couldn't refuse science-talk. “I used a single Neural Spike with the infant, but I plan to divide the probes throughout the six regions for a better chance at consonance.”

Caitlin nodded, looking down at the curious man rifling through the parts like a child on Christmas morning. It was at that moment the reality of what the K-scientist was planning to do—for the third time—was beginning to sink in. As much of a pioneer of the tech as Dr. Lightcap was, this was entirely new territory to her, both exciting and scary at the same time.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, anything missing?” she asked as Newton stood upright. He put his hands on his hips, surveying the mess of equipment. “Don't think so”, he wavered, but smiled at her in thanks. She returned the warm gesture. “Well, if you do find yourself in need of anything, you know where to find me. And, uh... Are you going to be waiting until Hermann gets back to help you?”

Newton had never told his colleague the true intention of the proposed project. That knowledge was only shared with Dr. Lightcap and the Marshal.

“No, I... might not have told him I was doing this.”

Caitlin looked confused. “Might not or did not?”

“Didn't...” The man felt cornered, fidgeting with the frayed hem of his sleeve. “Look,” he tried to reason, “it would be best I do this without him.”

“If you say so.” Dr. Lightcap looked him over, mildly confused, but on board. “However, in my professional opinion I would highly suggest assistance of some kind, and I would be more than happy to help, if not for my own selfish reasons,” she admitted with an innocent grin. It was Newton's turn to laugh. “Absolutely, nothing beats studying the real thing, am I right?” He liked her.

Positively giddy with the prospect of witnessing a human-Kaiju Drift for herself, she clapped her hands together. “This is so exciting! Well, I'll leave you to it. When you're ready to go just let me know and I'll be down here in a heartbeat.” The two curtly shook hands, and no sooner, she exited the lab. Newton was yet again left to his own devices.

Morrissey's crooning voice streamed from the laptop that had been left on the counter, next to what now must be a sizzling petri dish of Kaiju Blue if his hypothesis proved consistent. It had been that kind of day. Exhaling, Dr. Geiszler pushed the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbows, mentally preparing himself for the project ahead of him, currently in pieces on the floor at his feet. Now that he had both the approval and the tech needed to go forth with the work, Newton could keep his mind focused, fixated. He needed the distraction. However, he could also use a break.

He had no idea what time it was, but if Caitlin's visit could be any indication it must still be early evening. Newton made his way to the refectory, to the constant supply of coffee he knew he could rely on. The smell of food reminded the man he had been neglecting his body in more ways than one. A sudden ache in his stomach belied his appetite, and so he ducked into the kitchen for a slice of cheese pizza, not bothering with a plate. Crust hanging from his mouth, he made himself a generous to-go cup of coffee.

Mild as Hong Kong winters were, today was particularly chilly and rainy, forcing Newton to don his hood as he walked outside. It was misting; tiny water droplets obscuring his vision as they clung to the lenses of his glasses. Sheltering himself into a recess in the outer-wall the man dug his phone out of the pouch of his hoodie, and set about checking his e-mail as smoke twisted up and around his head. Nothing. The phone was thrust back into his sweater. Once finished with his cigarette Newton head back inside, damp and cold and somewhat disappointed. As he walked through the cafeteria, a figure slid into his field of vision. Officer Choi appeared from the ether with a soft smile and a coffee mug.

“'Sup, brother?” he asked. Newton drew the sodden hood back from his head.

“How'd you know it was me?” The biologist was genuinely curious, though it wouldn't have mattered with Tendo. He was on friendly terms with everyone.

“Who else on this God-forsaken rock would be wearing a Mastodon hoodie?” Officer Choi chided. Newton glanced down at the black shirt, and shrugged.

“So how've you been? Haven't seen you in a couple days,” Newton asked without missing a beat, continuing their walk through the mess. He had't seen much of anyone until today.

“I,” the officer began semi-haughtily, thumbing his suspenders, “have been given the privilege of staring at radar all day long. However, I thought I could use a break from playing solitaire. Got someone to cover my station for the time being.” He took a sip of his coffee, bringing the cup away from his mouth with a dramatic smack of his lips. “What about you? Mind if I bug you for a bit?”

“Nah, could use the company,” Newton admitted, and they both continued the long walk to the K-Sci wing. For all the empty labs that lined the corridor, Newt and Hermann's had to be at the very end. Although, the privacy was nice. The two were always able to argue with minimal disturbance. When they reached the lab it was exactly as it was left: a mess. Upon noticing the heap of equipment in the center of the floor—on Newton's side of the lab, of course—Tendo gawked at what he recognized.

“Is that?” he questioned, encircling the parts.

“That's,” he began to process what he was seeing.

“Wait,” the officer stopped to give Newton an incredulous look. “You're gonna do it _again_?” Newton leaned against a cooling table, arms crossed, daring him to object his work like he'd experienced so many times before.

“No... No no no, Newton.” Tendo paced around the lab in manic disbelief. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this could be? You could—“ Newton finished for him. “Die, I know...”

Pausing in front of the mess on the floor Tendo looked his friend up and down, fighting the urge to throttle the man. The officer groaned, bringing a hand up to his stiff hair. “Newt, I trust you, but,” he pointed at the biologist's outfit. “I can put two and two together, and I want to make sure that you're being rational. I need to know you have a clear head, and this isn't just some... spiteful decision you made on the fly, you know?” Tendo knew what flannels meant in Dr. Geiszler's universe; knew why and what brought him there.

No amount of physical display of defiance would deter Tendo. Unfolding his arms and shoving his hands into the pouch of his hoodie, Newton started to justify his decision. “I've dedicated more thought and planning to this than I did the first time; and I got this idea before Hermann left, so you know.” Newton specified. Still dubious, Tendo had to ask, “And he's okay with this?”

The doctor looked toward the floor. “Uh, Hermann has no idea... But Caitlin is going to act damage control. She knows more about Pons systems and the Drift than anyone and was the one who brought all this to me, just before I went to the mess.”

“You know you'll have to tell him, and he is probably not going to be happy about it.”

“I know...” The scientist knelt down and picked up a squidcap, turning it over in his hands. Normally the Pons would be fit within a helmet, but he wasn't planning on piloting a Jaeger. It was strange, up until Hermann found the biologist seizing on the floor he never thought his colleague would care.

“So, have you heard from him?” Newton carefully inquired, still toying with the part.

“No, afraid not.” He instantly knew Newton's answer was the same, and didn't bother to ask. He knew it was no use pursuing the subject by virtue of past experiences. Distraction was the key, and it seemed the biologist was way ahead of him—said distraction wise or not. Fetching a tool box from a cabinet Newton sat cross-legged on the stained ground, and began to sift through the array of Pons equipment.

“Any more whales?” Newton asked.

“The what? Oh, that.” Tendo settled himself down on the floor across from his friend with a strained sigh.

“It's funny you say that. There's been a lot of activity lately.” The officer picked up a ball of wires, and started to untangle them. “I mean, since Pitfall no doubt a ton of ships took advantage and head back out immediately, but there's just some stuff we've picked up with the hydrophone that I have no idea how to classify.” His fingers fumbled with a particularly puzzling knot. “I do wonder, though. Do you think a lot of marine life would head back around where the Breach was?”

Putting a number of screws in a compartment of the tool box, Newton rest his forearms on his knees. “It's not impossible. Animals are extremely receptive. A few blue or sperm whales could have already explored the area. If I remember correctly, I think whale vocalization comes in a frequency of around a half to 50 hertz? What've you been picking up?”

Tendo gave him a grave look. Newton didn't have to ask, nor say a word to convey what both of them were thinking. He idly spun the handle of the screw driver on the floor.

“God in Heaven,” Officer Choi muttered, trading the wires for his rosary. “If they come back, we're—”

“Screwed,” Newton finished.

Unaffected by the same alarming realization as the man sitting across from him, Dr. Geiszler resumed working. “I wouldn't start shitting my pants just because you caught something you can't identify, though,” the biologist reasoned. It wasn't hard evidence, and he wasn't entirely sure another Drift will even prove his theory. He was a man of science, not a man of faith.

“I would mention it to Herc, though, and keep a close eye out.”

Tendo slowly started work on the wires again, his fears somewhat mitigated, and agreed. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right.”

Sitting in silence save for the small rustling of equipment proved uneasy for the LOCCENT officer, unable to keep his mind off of the possibility of even more Kaiju attacks. “Why exactly are your doing this?” Tendo ached to know. Head still down, carefully detaching and organizing the system of wires from the Pons clamps, Newton delved into his speculation.

“Well, when I drifted with Mutavore I saw it being 'constructed'. I saw the Kaiju being commanded by the Precursors. I experienced their emotions, felt their motivations. As crazy as that is in and of itself, it gets even crazier.” Newton was having particular difficulty removing a set of wires, and broke the plastic of the clamp with a loud snap.

“Later on, when Pentecost had me go find Hannibal in the Bone Slums, was when the double event happened; like, hours after I Drifted. They came right for Hong Kong, dude, no hesitation. Otachi fuckin' tore through Crimson Typhoon and Cherno before heading into the city to find me, and she did. I have no idea if I'd be here if Gipsy didn't take her down.”

Newton was reunited with the crippling guilt he felt for the Wei Tang and Kaidonovsky's deaths, but he soldiered on.

“Four days later, a triple event, but they got smarter. They didn't really leave the trench at all. Instead, they waited. In retrospect I guess you could say it wasn't entirely smart of them to have stayed so close to the Breach, but... It's so strange...” Trailing off Newton's eyes glazed over; focused past his friend, past the wall, the headset dangling loosely from his grip.

“What's so strange?” Tendo encouraged him, and brought the man back down from space.

“Well,” Newton shook his head, “one of the things I discovered was the Hivemind. All of the Kaiju operate off of some kind of recurring neural network, communicating with each other much like two rangers do when synced. When I Drifted with Mutavore, the brain was so damaged I'm shocked I connected, let alone lived, but Otachi tracked me down so precisely. I was underground, dude.”

Officer Choi was able to follow the course of the events that were rehashed—he was witness to most of it himself from the safety of Mission Control—but when it came to the rest he appreciated the clarity.

“So,and excuse me if I sound crazy,but is what you're trying to tell me is that you actually established some sort of ghost-link to the Kaiju?” Newton could not have put it more eloquently, tapping his nose. The hypothesis the doctor wanted to test was far more complicated than just a latent mental bond, but he decided that Tendo had experienced enough shock for one day.

“That's a lot to take in for one afternoon, I feel like I could use a drink...” Newton wasn't sure if that was an open invitation or just exaggeration. Regardless, Tendo looked ready to distract himself with solitaire again.

“Weeeeell, my thirty is up,” the J-Tech stated standing up with a grunt and a stretch. It wasn't a proper timed break, but he would be best to get back to his post sooner rather than later. “I'll track down Herc and tell him about what we've been seeing. Better safe than sorry. And, speaking of safe, you be sure to look after yourself. You know where to find me.” Newton indignantly hummed. “I mean it,” Tendo pointed, turning back into the lab. He didn't leave satisfied until Newton looked up and acknowledged him, his offer.

The task at hand consumed Dr. Geiszler for the remainder of the day. One visit to the cafeteria for another slice of pizza and a cigarette bisected the evening, but otherwise Newton sustained himself off coffee brewed in the modest drip maker in the lab. The water quality of the slop sink left more to be desired, but he wasn't in it for the taste.

It was late, but hyper-focus paid off with a nearly completed custom human-Kaiju Drift system. There were a few modifications that needed to be completed once Newton located a few smaller probes, but he was more than pleased.

No longer sitting on the floor the scientist paced the lab while stripping the last bit of wire with a utility knife. His hands shook with exhaustion and his eyes wore heavy but every tiny inch of progress encouraged him to work past his limits.

Nearing the last of the wires Newton's head throbbed with sleep deprivation. Vision blurred, he was suddenly overcome with the cerulean blur of monstrous company, and before he knew it he felt a sharp sting. He opened his eyes only to discover the knife blade wedged into the meat of his thumb. Newton ran to the sink, holding his left hand over the drain and hastily grabbed a handful of paper towels to staunch the small wound. To make matters worse he felt a heavy wetness at his upper lip; a nosebleed impeded by his growing facial hair. He pitifully leaned over the sink, tending to his hand before applying pressure to the bridge of his nose. A small bandage did nothing to stop the flow of blood from the finger, but with a rubber glove and waning adrenalin Newton finished what he could, and called it a night.

He trudged through to the barracks, reaching his room without encountering a soul. Deep within the confines of a drawer Newton pulled out the first aid kit he hid there, properly dressed his thumb, and put the box away like he'd done many times before. Sitting heavily on the edge of his mattress, Newton took the phone from his pocket, and chanced a look. It was four-thirty in the morning. No new messages.

Shedding his hoodie and kicking off his unlaced boots, Newton pulled his threadbare comforter up to his chin and reached to turn out the light. The sheer exhaustion of the day's work caught up to him, giving him reprieve from the loud thoughts that often kept him up at night, and fell asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This day in Newton's life is brought to you by 70s/80s post-punk and goth-rock! My little emotionally stunted garbage child...  
> Didn't mean for it to take so long to get this chapter out. I've been neglecting my duties in favor of playing WoW... Shame on me...


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If you want me all you have to do  
> Is ask a thousand questions  
> Triplicate and file under  
> 'Simple things you ask to make a young boy sigh'"
> 
> ["Simple Things", Belle & Sebastian](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bU-rToNzU8)   
> 

Thus far Hermann's stay in England had not been as productive as anticipated. Experiencing none of the conferences with the media outlets his father flaunted during their travels, all this trip had been was a glorified family reunion. There wasn't much to complain about however, as the physicist had not seen his family in quite some time. Hermann also had a niece and two nephews who were growing fast, and were also very excited to see their uncle. It was tiring, but nearly a week had passed and the novelty of homecoming had begun to wear off. The distractions of his family's villa in the English countryside were entirely too comforting, making him feel as though his time at the Shatterdome was a distant memory. Dr. Gottlieb readjusted to civilian life faster than he cared to admit.

Sitting with his sister Karla they drank tea in their parent's parlor room, a vantage point of which to watch her children as they entertained themselves with a movie. Karla's daughter and two sons were 5, 4, and 7, respectively, and very well behaved—much unlike the Gottlieb siblings when they were younger. However, with time and maturity, the four had since dropped their childhood rivalries—to a degree.

“It must be so nice,” Karla began, sinking down further in the plush armchair. “You can finally relax.”

Hermann sipped his tea and placed the demitasse on the small table between them. “It is nice to be home, but I'm not quite finished with my work at the PPDC.” Karla diverted her eyes away from her children to look questioningly at her brother.

“I thought Vater said they were no longer funded by the United Nations?”

“True, but it doesn't mean we've been dissolved completely.” Hermann spoke of 'we' fondly, his commitment having been revived by a certain psychotic, but brilliant biologist.

“Is that so? I thought you would be happy to have the chance to escape that colleague of yours. Lord knows I heard dad's assessment of him when you arrived. Enough to solidify all the complaints about him you've shared with us over the years.” Karla rolled her eyes, annoyed at her younger brother's inability to tolerate any co-worker who wasn't his ethical Doppelgänger. She looked back towards the dark room where her children were no doubt fast asleep on the couch.

“It's actually to him I've committed further research with,” Hermann tried to state his case nonchalantly. He moved to take his tea, and cradled the cup in his lap.

“You're serious? Who are you and what happened to my little brother?” Karla gawked, happy to witness Hermann finally becoming a person. “But really, that's great. I remember when you were so excited to check the mail for his letters.” Her brother fondly retreated into the memory. Each time the mail was delivered, Hermann would flip through in anticipation of a new candy-striped envelope addressed directly to him.

“Why was it you started to hate him?” she asked.

It seemed such a long time ago. The two scientist's attendance overlapped when they were at the Academy, Hermann one year ahead. However, with Hermann's focus on mathematics and coding, his and Newton's paths never properly crossed unless, and until, they agreed to meet in person.

“He wasn't exactly who I thought he was,” he began. “It was foolish for me to make assumptions, but when I saw a young man in torn clothes standing in the middle of the atrium sporting a ridiculous mo-hawk I knew he was trouble.”

“And he turned out to be?”

It wasn't so much as Newton being trouble, but Hermann's trouble with him. “He's trouble in his own way, but I regret that I didn't give him the chance. He truly is a brilliant man who doesn't get the credit he deserves.” Hermann swirled the cooling tea in his lap and yelped when he felt a sharp pinch at his shoulder.

“What was that for!” he snapped, albeit quietly, aware of the sleeping children in the next room.

“Look at you being all sentimental! I like this new Hermann.” He acquiesced when Karla smiled.

“So you'll be leaving us again soon?” she asked, a tinge of disappointment to her voice.

“Soon, if Vater will ever get his bloody arse in gear.” The parent in question was out to dinner with their mother. Where and with whom else Hermann didn't bother to note, but he hoped the affair was business related. Since forcefully readjusting his circadian rhythm, the man itched to work. Equations, coding, the press conferences he committed to; anything to justify having left Hong Kong. He was sure Newton was keeping busy, if not entertaining himself with mundane experiments, listening to loud music, reciting the lyrics to every song he played. Hermann wondered what time it was in Hong Kong, if Newton was still awake. He sat and watched as the credits began to roll on the large flat-screen television in the other room.

“Well I think it's time for these kiddos to properly go to bed,” Karla said as she stood from the armchair. Hermann offered to take her empty tea cup, bringing them to the kitchen while she went to wake the three children. Two attempts were successful, but she cradled her youngest in her arms, still dead asleep, as her daughter and eldest son waddled close behind.

“Will you turn the television off for me?” she whispered. Hermann nodded, and was met with a gracious peck on the cheek.

“Say goodnight,” Karla told the two at her feet, and Hermann felt their arms wrap around his waist from both sides. “G'night, Uncle Hermann,” they sleepily muttered in unison, and were ushered upstairs with impressive efficiency.

Turning off the set Hermann surveyed the room, picking up the few pillows scattered around to be returned to their place on the couch. He and his siblings were raised to maintain a clean house, a trait that displayed itself in spades on his side of the lab in every Shatterdome he worked in. The same could not be said about his partner, but chalk and data didn't create as much a mess compared to Newton's biohazards. Leaving the light on in the foyer for when his parents eventually return home, Hermann, too, head up to the second floor.

The light of the guest bedroom was on, pausing Hermann at the top of the stairs when he heard Karla softly sing.

" _Laterne, Laterne, Sonne, Mond und Sterne,_  
_brenne auf mein Licht,_  
_brenne auf mein Licht,_  
_aber du, meine Liebe Laterne, nicht_."

 It was a lullaby their mother sung to them a long time ago, _still_ sung if she wanted to be overly saccharine and embarrass her adult children, but Hermann still secretly loved the lyrics. Anything celestial enchanted him. Leaning against the banister, Hermann eavesdropped until the song came to its end. Quietly as he could manage, he made his way to his room as Karla finished putting the children to sleep, and closed the door.

It was still his bedroom. All of his personal belongings from their home in Garmisch-Partenkirchen had been moved—books neatly organized on shelves, a few childhood photos and tchotchkes neatly displayed on his dresser. A large framed poster of the constellations of the northern hemisphere Hermann had since he was a child had been hung on the wall above the headboard, matching the white and navy blue comforter. His bed, king sized and plush, was by far the one thing the scientist truly wished he had in his bunker halfway across the world.

In the privacy of his room, Hermann rest his cane against the baseboard and took the cell phone from his breast pocket, tossing it onto the comforter. A white paper fluttered out with it, stark against the dark fabric. Picking it up, Hermann unfolded it to discover the note he had found on his desk a week ago—Newton's caricature of himself, as eccentric as the flesh. Smiling fondly, he placed the note on the nightstand.

Hermann wondered if a certain small box was still tucked away where he left it. Opening the closet, he sat down to move a stack of old clothes, and reached in towards the back to drag the deceptively heavy container forward. It was an unassuming looking thing, an old cardboard box, but opening it Dr. Gottlieb was reunited with years of a young Dr. Geiszler's letters, organized chronologically front to back. The man shuffled back until he leaned against the foot of his bed, the box on the floor next to his thigh. Choosing one at random Hermann pulled the envelope next to it lengthwise to mark its place.

This letter was long, five pages written in beautiful penmanship that belied the personality of the man who wrote it. Reading through, it excitably spoke of Newton's acquisition of a small Kaiju tissue sample. How the biologist managed to get his hands on such contraband at that time was questionable, but it was a milestone in the scientist's passionate crusade to understand the extraterrestrial beings inside and out. In later letters Newton spoke of his desire to join the Jaeger Academy. He had told Hermann to start without him, as Dr. Geiszler had a contractual obligation to finish the academic year teaching at MIT. The Wunderkind also wanted the chance to finish his sixth doctorate. Overachiever.

Hermann sat and lost himself in the letters, heart swelling at all the personal anecdotes and promises to be given the 'Newton Geiszler Experience' should the physicist ever make it to Massachusetts.

 _You have a sweet tooth, don't you?_ Newton had recalled in one letter. _There's this breakfast place you'd love. Cheesy décor, but it's open late, has awesome bread made in-house, and booze for breakfast!_

Sadly, Hermann had never been able to make it to the Cambridge across the pond.

A soft knock rapped at Hermann's door, jostling him out of his reverie. Karla entered to find her brother settled half cross-legged on the floor. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she picked up the small piece of paper on his side table, examined it with a smile, and put it back. Hermann felt her eyes burn into the back of his skull, becoming mildly annoyed with her silence.

“Yes?”

“You miss him, don't you?” She kicked her feet against the edge of the bed frame.

“Karla,” he practically growled. It was like they were twenty-five years younger all over again.

“Am I wrong?”

Hermann stared down at his lap, a letter peering back up at him, accusingly, one of the many he read so far. “I suppose I would be lying if I said I didn't.”

Karla continued to kick her feet against the mattress, looking around her brother's bedroom, fixating on him when he continued to quietly pore over another letter.

“You know he fancied you, right?” she disrupted. Hermann flinched at the comment. “What are you on about?” He looked behind him, Karla once again distracted by everything else in the room but her brother. Hermann twisted his spine to look pointedly at her, a palm firmly planted on the floor. “You snake! You little scoundrel!” Testament to the sibling's snooping tendencies, Karla giggled. Hermann battled the urge to protectively hug the box to his chest, but that would be equally as immature.

“Come on, if you weren't a busybody to begin with you wouldn't have opened dad's post and started this whole thing. You can't blame me, you always ran upstairs when you got those,” his sister shrugged. “And I totally see why, you had a Mr. Darcy on your hands.”

Hermann dramatically sighed. “That's confirmation bias, Schwester.” She looked at him with mild confusion. “You're _wanting_ to see—” Hermann breathed, “romantic undertones, but we were just two equally as intelligent individuals who simply maintained an academic rapport.” Hermann felt his face flare up in heat having spoken the words aloud. This did not help his case.

“Oh my God, you're so blind!” Karla scrambled off the bed, grabbing at the box to take out one of the earlier letters. “See?” she pointed at the top of the page having taken it out of its envelope. “And here, look at that,” she then pointed to the top of the letter in which her brother was currently engrossed in. “My Dearest Hermann?” The addressed man flared his nostrils, defending his own position. “That's his sense of humor.”

“Oh please, he practically offered to take you out on dates!”

“Karla, networking dinners are a thing.”

“To novelty restaurants and punk bars?”

Checkmate.

Perhaps Dr. Gottlieb lacked the social savvy to pick up on subtle advances. Were they even? It never occurred to him the possibility that Newton liked him in that way. Inside a mixture of discomfort and sadness brewed in the physicist's stomach, unsure how to respond, unsure how he would react when he next saw the man.

“Am I that naïve?”

Karla hummed in agreement at her brother, still staring at the letter in his hands. Hermann never entertained the same sex as an option, frankly surprised that he caught the attention of Vanessa in the first place. Lo and behold, she more interested in the same sex, nothing ever became of them. Nonetheless, the close friendship was a comforting boost to his self-esteem.

“Have you talked to him at all?” she asked. Shaking his head, Hermann began to fold the paper and place it back in its envelope. Karla blindly reached behind her, grabbing the cell phone on the bed next to her to dangle it above her younger brother's head.

“Call him.” It wasn't so much a suggestion as a command.

“I can't call him now, I don't know what time it is in Hong Kong,” he countered, but he knew there was a good chance that his lab partner could very well still be awake, no matter what time it was.

“Then text him for God's sake; don't be such a baby!”

Rolling his eyes Hermann knew he couldn't argue with her and snatched the phone from her loose grasp. She picked herself off the floor and flopped back onto his bed. Crawling further towards the edge, she wrapped her arms around Hermann's neck from above. She may be nearing forty, but Karla would always be his sister.

“Big sis is always right,” she said, kissing the crown of her brother's head. Karla bid him goodnight, rolling herself off the mattress. When the door closed, Hermann looked at the phone. It was almost 9pm. Scrolling through his contacts list he chose Newton's number, and tapped the tiny envelope. Staring at the small keyboard on the screen he was at a loss for what to type. There was no conversation history, and initiating first contact was intimidating. Eventually he chose something safe, something insignificant, and pressed send. His message popped up in the chat box in the upper left corner.

_Am I waking you up?_

Hermann's blood pulsed loudly inside his head. At first the mathematician sat with the phone, anticipating a response, but nothing came. Perhaps Newton was asleep. Deciding to change into his bedclothes Hermann checked his phone one last time, making sure he didn't miss a returning text while he was washing up, but saw none. Finally settling himself into his bed, having brought the box of letters up with him, Hermann read until he fell asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh now we're getting somewhere! Hermann you gotta pick up the pace my boy.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, here comes trouble  
> Put your helmet on, we'll be heading for a fall  
> Yeah, the whole thing's gonna blow  
> And the devil's got my number  
> It's long overdue, he'll come looking soon  
> Yeah, the whole thing's gonna blow"
> 
> ["Trouble", TV on the Radio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bunJBFtlt-I)   
> 

The roof was a place Dr. Geiszler found himself when experiencing the extremes of his emotional spectrum, having stumbled into the access stairwell one drunken night by accident. The day started off on a good note, and the biologist almost cheerily left his cave, craving the exhilarating view. Newton had dragged his friend along, having nothing better to do while he waited for the lab's autoclave to finish its cycle.

Late this morning the biologist avoided a trip down to storage when he salvaged the probes he needed from the already well-scavenged milking machine. Having survived a run through the sonic cleanser, they just needed to finish being sterilized. Newton could soon complete the assembly of his custom Drift apparatus.

The man preemptively contacted Caitlin via the Shatterdome's VoIP network, and she was due to meet him in K-Sci on the hour. Which put him fifteen minutes away from a 10 minute walk, on the roof of the Shatterdome. His mind couldn't be further from the clock.

“Oh. My. God.”

The LOCCENT officer thrived off gossip, often found nose-deep in the issues of the day, inside the Shatterdome and out. His guilty pleasure was pandering rumors and schadenfreude to the masses. Newton couldn't quite understand why anyone would take credence in such exaggerated headlines. Perhaps it was a good distraction amidst the Kaiju War. Yet, the biologist expressed his own cryptic hobbies in the form of a framed Bat Boy photo, right next to his “I WANT TO BELIEVE” poster.

“What, did a wardrobe malfunction result in a nip slip?” The biologist's sarcasm dripped out of him, chased by billowing smoke in the direction of the harbor. The rain from yesterday had let up, bringing with it a comfortable warm front. The fog was so thick Hong Kong city was barely visible from the military base.

“I don't think you want to see this,” Tendo hesitated, but his friend took no heed, leaning over to look at whatever it was the man was gawking at.

“C'mon, what's so bad?” Nudity and questionable fashion choices held no import to Newton. The biologist had been to GWAR concerts and Norwegian death metal shows. On the small screen was a grainy photograph. Hermann and Vanessa sat across from each other at a small table, so identified by the headline: BEAUTY AND THE BRAIN: Romantic Post-War Reunion in London Café. Their position deep in the back of the restaurant was no match for the paparazzi’s pricy telephoto lens.

“Son of a bitch.”

That was exactly what Tendo was afraid the man's reaction would be, watching as Newton angrily flicked the cherry off the cigarette to immediately forge into a new one. Thumbing the lighter the doctor hissed, having forgotten his injured digit.

Being the Shatterdome rubberneck, Tendo absolutely could not avoid picking up on his friend's social cues as of late. To the officer, the relationship between Dr. Gottlieb and Dr. Gesizler was the stuff of soap operas—two rivals who outwardly hated each other to the core, assigned to collaborate in the same small workspace as the last bastion of scientific prowess to systematically end an apocalyptic alien invasion. There could be no more engaging a scenario. “You couldn't make that shit up”, He often thought.

“I dunno, Newt, tabloids always stretch the truth,” Tendo attempted to reassure, but Newton was quite cross, ruefully gazing down at the small uniformed figures milling about the deck below. He wanted to spit over the side.

Closing the stock browser, the phone was put back in the officer's pocket. There wasn't anything Tendo could say to take back what Newton saw. “Sorry, brother.”

Looking more sad than angry, Dr. Geiszler leaned heavily on the railing, his torso bent at the hips at a nearly 90-degree angle. The length of ash on the cigarette was rivaling what had yet to be burned, and fell off when it was lazily brought up to Newton's mouth. Tendo hated seeing the man like this.

“Wanna talk?” the officer fruitlessly asked. Newton shook his head. “I need to get back to the lab. Lightcap should be showing up soon, don't want to leave her waiting.” Tamping the butt on the railing Newton took it and the previous one with him, leaving little evidence of their loitering.

Making their way back to the access door Newton pushed on the handle, the EMERGENCY EXIT warning blatantly ignored as no alarm seemed to be connected at all. The stairs were barely used, the yellow and gray concrete steps pristine as if it had been poured and painted just yesterday. Descending back into the Shatterdome their footsteps echoed a little too loudly around them. Reaching a juncture in the hallway the men stopped before going their separate ways.

“It's none of my business what he does, anyway.”

Surprised by the biologist's unsolicited self-reassurance, Tendo raised his brow as Newton examined his unlaced boots.

“I know how you get. If you need me, brother, you know where to find me.” After Tendo clapped a hearty palm on his friend's shoulder blade they fist-bumped; the J-Tech heading off to Mission Control, the other back towards the research wing. Both men had work to get back to.

In the lab, Dr. Geiszler unlatched the door of the small autoclave on the counter, distractedly reaching inside only to burn his fingertips on the trays. Cursing he instead pinched the corners of each package to gingerly slide them out, all six of them. Letting the probes cool, Newton walked to the large cold storage unit, stepping inside to start wheeling the respectively large specimen tank into the lab. The harsh chill of the cart's metal scaffolding felt nice on his burn-tender skin.

“Hello?”

Right on schedule.

“In here!”

It was an ambiguous call. Nevertheless, Caitlin found Newton deep inside the walk-in fridge. Offering her help the pair wheeled the large tank safely out, the unit's door bumped closed just as the temp light began to incessantly blink.

“Sorry, I'm a little behind. Just need to fit these probes on and we'll be good to go,” Newton said, racing back to the counter to grab the packets that were now cool to the touch. Gloved hands tore each one open, each probe systematically connected to the Pons unit as he talked.

“Wanted to sterilize these to prevent any risk of cross-contamination. These were from the milking machine—a little blunt, but exactly what I needed.” One last screw finished securing the pieces to each set of wires, creating a lethal mobile of sharp, oversized needles dangling precariously above the biologist's head. Dr. Lightcap circled the device, examining the patchwork system, as Newton made the final preparations. By the way the woman looked, she was impressed. Questions were unnecessary, the scientist's intentions illustrated by his handiwork. If she didn't know what one piece of equipment was for, she was soon to find out.

“I can't believe you finished this so soon,” she admitted, nearly breathless with wonder. This threw Newton slightly aback.

“Oh! If you're busy then we don't—”

“No, no!” she waved her hands erratically, motioning the two into a frazzled silence. Caitlin walked closer to the Pons to examine the squidcap, turning it around in her hands.

“So where's this Kaiju brain of yours?” she asked, placing the object back down. Pushing one of Hermann's step ladders over to his own side of the lab, Newton positioned it next to the tank Dr. Lightcap helped wheel out. The glass was obscured under a layer of condensation. The man took his sleeve and swept his arm across the tank, revealing a glimpse at the brain within before it started to fog over again. Caitlin gaped.

“Give me a hand?” Climbing up the ladder Newton hovered over the tank, frigid, and brume covered. He pointed at the set of probes he just finished assembling, and Dr. Lightcap wheeled the hook stand to meet with the biologist's outstretched hand. The modified Pons was lifted up delicately, each sharp probe carefully sunk down half a foot deep into Scunner's brain, each region named aloud as Newton gently assaulted them. Some areas were extremely hard to reach, but with the help of an extra long pair of forceps each probe was positioned exactly where it was intended.

Newton deposited his gloves in the direction of the biowaste receptacle with a dramatic snap of latex. As usual, they missed their mark. He stood next to Caitlin, both looking upon the massive tank with approval. Dr. Lightcap waited for further instruction, but all Newton could do was fidget in nervous excitement, surveying every piece of equipment multiple times to ensure everything was connected, properly calibrated, and ready to go.

“Okay...” the biologist jogged over to his desk, moving his office chair to the Pons. Positioning herself at the console, Caitlin didn't need to ask where her assistance was going to be needed. Her professionalism and readiness, earned a shaky nod from the mastermind cum guinea pig. The system was primitive, nothing compared to the neural handshake software that was used remotely by LOCCENT, but it was what Lightcap was most intimately familiar with during her formative years.

“Care to just go over a run-down on with what we'll be doing?” she asked, picking up on Newton's apprehension. Understandable, considering his 50/50 track record Drifting with Kaiju.

“Yeah... The tech is super simple as you can see, so it'll be pretty quick and dirty. I'll sit down, you initiate the Drift, and depending on how well this goes I'll stay in for, say, you think... five minutes?” Dr. Lightcap nodded. Who was she to argue, she was in this for the research, for the opportunity to witness a human-Kaiju Drift firsthand. There was still tremendous risk, but she understood sacrifice for the sake of science. Besides, the Pons Newton was using was, first off, not entirely created from scratch, and two, superior to the very first prototypes that proved legitimately dangerous.

Dr. Geiszler sat down in the desk chair, nervously positioning the seat in his precise preferred position. Reaching up, the squidcap was brought down to fit snugly around his head, hugging his neck in an ominous embrace. Newton glanced back at Caitlin.

“I guess I'll set a timer.”

Newton pulled the phone from his pocket. A message notification hovered above the lock screen. It was from an unregistered number, but one he recognized. It was saved on his old phone, the phone that was lost to a year-old lab accident. It was Hermann.

“Am I waking you up?”

Staring at the phone, Newton could not bring himself to reply. At the delay, Caitlin ushered a response.

“Everything okay?”

Shaking out of his reverie, an alarm was set to go off in five and a half minutes, time enough to initiate the Drift.

“Timer's set.”

The phone was set on the edge of the console Caitlin manned. Hands white-knuckling the arm rests, Newton took a deep breath, looked back at Dr. Lightcap, and began to count down.

“Human-Kaiju drift experiment number three,” he began out of habit, no recording device in sight.

“Initiate in five,” he took a shaky breath.

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Two?” Newton's eyes cinched closed.

“One!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some suspension for suspense, eh?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And after the rockets calm  
> And the glimmer of fire  
> Portends an early dawn
> 
> We pinch at our skin  
> While we wonder how we  
> Escaped harm"
> 
> ["After the Bombs", The Decemberists](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IN9REo4Le6g)   
> 

On Newton's recommendation Officer Choi notified the rest of the J-Techs in Mission Control to keep a close eye out for suspicious activity. Not one person was to let their guard down, whether or not the Rift was closed. No door could be barricaded forever.

A half an hour ago the man effectively flipped Dr. Geiszler's entire day around with one single image. It was completely unintentional, what had happened, but thanks to his reflexes there was no hiding what business K-Sci's only physicist engaged in while halfway across the globe. It wasn't the officer's fault—the actions of Hermann _or_ the reaction Newton had to it—he was simply a conduit. Not learning from his recent mistake the officer sat at his station, filtering through the anonymous cheers and jeers of his coworkers on social media. The boredom was especially empathetical, feeling much of it himself as he reclined far back in his chair with a resounding creak. Since Pitfall there wasn't much for Tendo, or anyone else, to do.

For the better part of a decade Officer Choi trained his eye on the wall of displays at the helm of Mission Control. Green and black burned into his corneas as it spun clockwise over and over and over again, enough to hypnotize one into a stupor. It wasn't much different now with the exception of a few vessels and curious marine life making their way back into the area. It made his job slightly more exciting, but not as thrilling as when he was waiting for the next Kaiju to emerge.

One tenacious—what Tendo assumed—whale made consistent visits to the trench the past few days, and from what he could see the animal was back. He even named it, Faith, a reflection upon his own dogma and optimism. It was corny, yes. He didn't dare tell anyone of the moniker, but seeing the little ambiguous marker on screen brought a smile to his face, and a sense of peace enough to start a playing a game on his phone.

Moves away from beating an old score, a unique signature appeared on the passive sonar. An arrhythmic beat of seismic activity in the vicinity of Challenger Deep made the man's heart sink into the pit of his stomach. Turning to the RADAR, Tendo could see Faith moving away from the area with each refresh of the PPI display. The gentle beast was fleeing. Nothing else was visibly detected.

Glued to the screen, Tendo blindly flagged down a second pair of eyes. “Hey, hey, come take a look at this.” The younger J-Tech leaned over Tendo's chair, eyebrows arced, unsure of what she was looking for. Not wanting to be thought a fool, the officer jabbed at the screen, his finger leaving a smudge right above the point of the Breach.

“Right there! It was right there!” Tendo yelled at the sonar. Luckily for him if it didn't appear again, he could consult the backlogs for his proof.

“Keep an eye on this, I'm going to find the Marshal.”

Leaving with enough force to spin his chair in place, Tendo briskly walked out of Mission Control, short of floating down the steps. His heart was beating a mile a minute, the signature inciting an adrenaline rush not experienced since the triple event. Contrary to his nerves the man didn't run, not in so much of a rush as to part the hallways of workers who were blissfully unaware of what Tendo believed he just witnessed.

The door of the office was shut, and immediately boxed. From within Herc's voice droned his invitation as Tendo made his way inside without a second thought as to close the door behind him. The officer gripped the backs of two chairs, a serious look upon his face.

“Everything okay, Tendo?” Formalities aside Marshal Hansen could see this wasn't a casual visit.

“There might be some activity around the Breach,” the officer cut to the chase. Herc now adopted a severe expression, taking in the news he inevitably waited for on bated breath.

“Did something come through?”

“No, no... I— ”

Dr. Lightcap came to a halt in the doorway. The sudden entrance was an unwelcome shock to both men who stared at her, eyes wide and confused. She knew she interrupted something important.

“I um... I'm sorry, am I interrupting anything?” She failed at hiding her labored breath. If it weren't such a grim set of circumstances the Marshal would find himself raking a hand down his face in comical exasperation. Yet, considering the nature of Caitlin's entrance it must be at least nearly as important as Tendo's news. He repeated himself same as before.

“Is everything okay, Caitlin?”

She took a deep breath. “Newton just initiated the Drift and—”

“ _Just now_?”

Ignoring Tendo's sudden outburst Herc urged Dr. Lightcap to continue. “Uhh, he's better to relay what happened, but—“ she took a moment, still composing herself. “In short, he claims he saw the Kaiju being bio-engineered even further. According to him, it's pretty bad.”

Herc pinched the bridge of his nose, cast heavily rest upon the desk.

“And he's not here, _why_?” A little irritation in the Marshal's voice couldn't help but squeak by.

“I just told him to stay put, for his own safety.”

Nodding, Herc stood slowly, reminded of the state in which Newton was found by Hermann and Stacker earlier that month. Abandoning the small tower of paperwork he was previously tending to before Officer Choi presented himself, the man rounded the desk, motioning to the two techs with his good arm. “We're going to K-Sci. Officer, come with us.” The trio exited the office, walking in silence— Dr. Lightcap had no more to add, Marshal Hansen was conditioning his resolve, and Tendo was full to the brim with concern and anger of his friend's surreptitious behavior. This could not bode well. The already long walk to the terminus of the research wing felt infinite. In the lab, Dr. Geiszler was found typing frantically at his desk, documenting what was still fresh in his mind.

“Fill us in, Geiszler. Spare no detail,” the Marshal demanded as soon as he entered the doorway. Feet shoulder-width apart, one arm draped across the other, subtle tics hinted that the man was anything but calm and collected. A nervous sweat slicked his brow, his fingers fidgeting to pull at the cotton gauze that lined his pain white cast. Newton looked meekly up at the three looming figures; his throat clicking as he swallowed.

“Bombs,” was what he managed to squeak out.

His hand rose to his face to gently dab at the blood matting itself in his overgrown stubble. The dark red pooling on his upper lip matched the hemorrhage that refreshed itself in spades over Newton's left eye, its gaze traveling up to meet the disbelieving look of his superior.

“Not like, like, arms or anything, I'm talking about internal incendiary devices in the Kaiju themselves to self-destruct. No Enola Gay, no innocuous suitcases, just straight up—” Dr. Geiszler punctuated his explanation with an explosive sound from his mouth, a dramatic splaying of his hands for added theatrical effect. It was no laughing matter, but Newton couldn't parse what he saw any other way.

It wasn't impossible, the bio-engineering. The Kaiju emitted an EMP field that shut down Hong Kong, the Shatterdome, every Jaeger except Gispy. Knowing this, the Marshal's real question was, if the doorway was sealed, how could Newton possibly tap into what was going on, on some distant rock however far away? He took a deep breath. “I want you to think long and hard about this, Doctor. You need to be confident in what you are telling me right now, as I will not take it lightly. In conjunction with Officer Choi's recent data this could very well be the beginning of a second Kaiju War.”

Newton dipped his head and stared up at the officer when hearing the news. Tendo just nodded his head in silent confirmation.

“What comes out of your mouth next is the difference between me going back to my paperwork, or making some very long, very difficult phone calls.”

The responsibility of the position he was in was entirely too intimidating for the biologist, who sunk into his chair with its weight. Gathering his thoughts, Newton then launched into a concise explanation of his proven theory in the most layman of terms. “When I continually experienced the Hivemind after Pitfall it made me wonder how it actually worked. I thought it wouldn't be possible, that it was just some Drift-hangover, but...” Dr. Geiszler spoke slowly, ensuring everyone, even himself, were on the same page. “In the simplest of terms I can best describe the phenomenon of the Hivemind to act like radio transmitters. Each Kaiju have the ability to communicate with each other telepathically, and now me, incidentally. It's not entirely insane, considering ghost-Drifting in pilots, but it's cranked up to eleven with the Kaiju. The Kaiju are always connected, always aware of each other. Their brains, dead or not, still have the ability to act as an active conduit if tapped into, like I did. It's why Otatchi found me so easily. I can't say for sure but I'm positive it worked because the Breach is not fully destroyed, only blocked, but I was still able to see so clearly into them it's a testament for how dangerously tenacious they actually are.”

Newton's sobering account kept Herc, Caitlin, and Tendo on their toes. Dr. Lightcap had witnessed the man Drift—the roughly five minute trip into Kaiju headspace as horrifying as someone of her expertise would anticipate—but, like the officer and the Marshal, this was her first time hearing of the biologist speak beyond the choked plea for Hansen's presence. Surprisingly, it was Officer Choi who spoke out of line.

“So what you're telling me is that what I caught on sonar was _while you were Drifting_? You caused them to stir again!” It was extremely rare to witness Tendo angry. He did not take the situation lightly.

Caught off-guard, the scientist resorted to habitual recourse. “You can't prove that—” Newton hissed, leaning forward in his seat, but the tension quickly diffused before any further argument could escalate. “Gentlemen, please.” Herc's tone was thoughtful, grave, keen—the gravity of the situation still sinking in as the man mapped out a plan in his head. Ultimately, every course of action from this point on laid on the shoulders of the green Marshal, a duty he hadn't dealt with since his time in the Australian military. Every day he mourned the loss of Stacker. Especially now. He turned to Dr. Geiszler.

“I may not be a scientist, but consistency proves theory, yeah?”

“Of course. The scientific method,” the biologist's tone wavered. He knew where this was going.

“Finish typing your report, then you will be doing this again. First, go to medical, take a day or two off. You,” he turned to Officer Choi, who deflated under the larger man's stern face. “I trust what you saw, back up and document every instance of activity that is detected, I will need every ounce of evidence we can get to shove over the table to those bludgers who actually think they're worth a damn.” It was evident the Marshal was aware that he was in for a legislative ride and sounded none too pleased. Looking suddenly overwhelmed, he sighed. “At ease. Now if you will excuse me I have quite a few calls to make,” and walked out of the lab at a brisk pace, leaving behind Newton and Tendo's unresolved tension. Without a proper goodbye, Tendo stated his retreat back up to LOCCENT, and left, not entirely confident in his ability to refrain from taking his frustrations out on his friend. Newton sat limp in his desk chair.

“You alright?” Caitlin asked, delicately sitting on the corner of the man's desk.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.”

Hemorrhaging, cephalalgic, depressed—the ailments were quite obvious.

“What you did was important,” she pressed. “We are risk-takers. How would we ever know our limits if we didn't push them. If they _are_ coming back, regardless of whether or not the Kaiju were influenced by your Drift, anyone would be ignorant to think we're safe.” Newton smiled weakly at Dr. Lightcap's shared sentiment.

“Thanks,” he croaked.

“Anytime,” she smiled carefully. “Well, it looks like we'll be working together more often. I trust you to go to medical? Don't want to lose another to Drift complications.”

Dr. Geiszler sat a little straighter in his chair. “Soon, just want to write down as much as I can before I forget any detail.” Satisfied, Dr. Lightcap slipped off the desk to her feet. “Do you need anything?” Newton shook his head. Nodding, she made her exit, the hollow tread of her heels disappearing into silence down the corridor. Doubling over, Newton buried his face in his hands, and shook.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Decemberists are definitely a Tendo band. Catastrophe has begun!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "No, and I ain't lookin' to fight with you  
> Frighten you or tighten you  
> Drag you down or drain you down  
> Chain you down or bring you down  
> All I really want to do  
> Is, baby, be friends with you."
> 
> ["All I Really Want To Do", Bob Dylan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CE_dNeZ8hE)   
> 

Hermann found himself in London, sitting and finishing brunch with Vanessa before having to meet his father in Portland Place. The Gottliebs were finally getting their interview. It was shaping up to be an excellent morning, not that the previous couple of days weren't relaxing beyond belief.

Woken shortly before midnight, Lars invaded his son's room to find the light still on, letters littered upon the comforter, but he paid no mind. Their dinner nailed an hour-long segment dedicated to Operation Pitfall, filming the very next day. Groggy, but happy, Hermann reorganized the scattered papers from his bed, and fell back asleep. The same smile dominated his face since, especially in the company of a friend he hadn't seen in a long time.

“Would you like some dessert?” Vanessa asked, corralling bread crumbs with the tip of her finger. “No, thank you,” Hermann breathed, clearly sated as he pushed his empty plate to the center of the table, leaning back in the chair as to avoid the thought of a new dish. He'd been eating richly, doted on by his family since arriving home, stating that if he ate any more, he'd get fat. Vanessa chuckled.

“Never, you have an enviable metabolism. You'd be a great model,” she winked.

“Hardly, I'm constantly criticized for my fashion sense as it is.” He smiled, but dolefully gazed down at the tea between his hands.

“Avante-garde fashion is all the rage, you fit the hipster market quite well. You just need clothes that actually fit you and it won't look like you're just wearing your grandfather's hand-me-downs.” Hermann took no offense, though scrunching his nose at the 'hipster' label. He knew he wore what was comfortable, and cared least about fit. To be quite honest, the scientist wasn't even sure if snug sweater vests were even manufactured.

“If you say so,” he said flippantly around his tea.

“I _know_ so.” Hermann caught her playfully precocious smirk from over the top of his cup, finding her statement incredulous. She sensed this. “You're a diamond in the rough. You have the brains, now you need the clothes to look just as smart. I'm sure if I took you out shopping you'd turn some heads, shocking those co-workers of yours in Hong Kong,” the woman smiled. She was too confident.

“I thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid I must get going,” he stated, reaching for the bill, but Vanessa beat him to it as she tucked a generous note under the receipt. “On me. If you ever feel like shopping,” she began, slipping her arms inside a lambskin trench, “I would be honored to accompany you.” Hermann couldn't be sure if she repeated the offer due to the oversized green parka he now wore, but as the two stepped outside into the cold February chill he was reminded why he kept it all these years. London may not be as cold as Anchorage, but he'd be hard pressed to find anything that retained heat any better.

“Good luck, love,” she wished, and effortlessly kissed Hermann's temple. Vanessa was taller than him, towering over him in heels. The man smiled, bid her farewell, and pulled the hood over his head before walking in the opposite direction.

Portland Place wasn't far from the bistro he had just left. It wasn't purposeful, simply convenient—one of Vanessa's many favorite London haunts. Hermann could see why. He may have just had a simple sandwich, but compared to the fare of the Shatterdome's commissary, the modest Reuben was positively divine. Perhaps, in the not-so-distant future, Hermann could bring Newton here. If the two would ever find themselves in England together, that is. The man was sure he saw a few enticing meat-free dishes on the menu that looked appetizing.

The fur-lined hood tickled Hermann's face as he walked, the cold updrafts swimming around him enough to push him along. He felt lighter, feeling his absence at the Shatterdome finally justified once the Broadcasting House came into view. He took a moment to pause and admire the mixture of Art Deco and modern architecture. The headquarters were more of a maze than any Shatterdome in which he was stationed, but with the guidance of a young intern Hermann found himself in the presence of his father among a roundtable of suits in casual discussion.

“There he is!” Lars boasted. Unlike his son, the elder engineer always carried about him an air of naïve enthusiasm. Obtuse to Hermann's disapproval following the wall initiative, the older man was happy to suffer no lingering resentment. Lars was proud of his progeny, his _Wunderkind_. It was a role Hermann wished he never fostered.

The group discussed a preemptive run-down of what was going to be discussed on the program, and when. It was to be an hour-long prime-time special covering Operation Pitfall and the events leading up to the closing. Nothing Hermann couldn't handle. He only hoped not to dwell too much on the Wall of Life.

Hermann sat politely as his father and the rest of the men made idle chat. Subjects of which the scientist held no opinion of since joining the PPDC, moving halfway across the globe, fighting for human kind, saving the world. Eyes scanning the room, the younger man hoped his boredom wasn't too evident. He moved to take a drink of his cold tea and nearly dropped the cup when his phone rung loudly from in his pocket. Hermann excused himself, accepting the call as soon as the door closed behind him.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Gottlieb,” the voice drawled.

“Marshal?” Hermann was surprised, but happy to hear from the man.

“I hope you're well, Doctor,” Herc began, his voice distant, preoccupied with more important things.

“Yes, I am actually at the BBC right now in London. We are filming the segment today and I am quite glad you called, as a matter of fact—”

“Yes, good, however the nature of this call is is rather... urgent,” the Marshal interrupted. Over the phone the sound of rustling papers could be heard, followed by an annoyed sigh from Herc himself. “This afternoon Officer Choi detected a unique signature originating from the point of the Breach, and at around the same time Dr. Geiszler, while Drifting—“

“He did _what_!?” Hermann managed to keep his voice down, but his superior was none too pleased with the exclamation and asserted himself as much.

“Doctor, I would highly suggest you let me finish.” After a very formal yet curt apology by the scientist, Hansen continued. “Dr. Geiszler has made some disturbing observations, nothing I can divulge to you over the phone. However, your presence is needed back here at the Shatterdome immediately. You are to fly out of Heathrow tomorrow. The itinerary will be e-mailed to you shortly. I hope there to be no objections?” It wasn't so much a question as intimidation.

“Uh, yes, sir,” Hermann stuttered. “Sir, before you leave, should I mention this? On the program, I mean.”

“No, strictly keep conversation to Pitfall. You know nothing of what I just told you.”

“Yes, Marshal. Thank you.”

Hansen hung up the phone before Hermann even readied a goodbye. He was too shocked with the news, soon becoming incensed at Newton's actions, then concerned. The lack of communication from his lab partner could have been more serious than he interpreted. Hermann never received a reply from his simple text. On cue, the physicist's phone chimed. It was the flight confirmation e-mail—11:25am tomorrow morning, nonstop to Hong Kong. Hermann took a deep breath, and entered the board room.

Lars stood, shaking hands in turn before gesturing his son to his side. Putting on his best face, the younger Gottlieb displayed his gratitude towards the men of whom he couldn't name, of whom he would never find the need. They were once again led through the maze of interconnected buildings to where, as his father noted, 'all the magic happens'.

Sitting in the high salon chair, Hermann stared at his bright reflection, adjusting his eyes to the blinding frame of lights that somehow emphasized every fine line and wrinkle the mathematician accumulated over the last few years. A subtle coat of foundation and powder and the man might have caught a glimpse of what Vanessa insisted earlier. However, the slowly dissipating yet still visible subconjunctival hemorrhage posed a stark reminder of why he was here. It was no doubt going to be subject of at least one of the moderator's questions.

The novelty of the familiar news set was lost on Hermann. As they got comfortable in their seats, there was a brief overview—mic checks, camera views, lighting, a tad more powdered concealer, the works—and filming commenced. In spite of a few retakes they were done in less than two hours, the time seemingly gone in a flash as the working K-scientist recounted information he could relay in his sleep. When it was done, Hermann almost felt disappointed, like he missed all of it. Shaking the hands of excited producers, his mind was half a world away.

Politely refusing the offer of a lavish meal on behalf of the BBC, Hermann opted to travel back to his parent's home. There he was free to spend the evening packing in silence, unable to bid his sister and her children goodbye. nor Dieterich and Bastien, whom were to arrive tomorrow to see their brother just a little too late. Bastien's wedding was slowly approaching, a late-summer affair, and the entire family was excited to finally be able to celebrate without the overarching threat of the Kaiju War, but Hermann couldn't be so sure of that, now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a whirlwind month, but here is chapter 15 for your consumption! The song I chose is a subtle way to describe Hermann's relationships with multiple people. Also I wouldn't put it past him to like Bob Dylan...


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And you might say it's self-indulgent  
> And you might say it's self-destructive  
> But, you see, it's more productive  
> Than if I were to be happy."
> 
> ["Bad Habit", The Dresden Dolls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zd479_upiCA)   
> 

Flat on his back, Newton stared up at his ceiling, eyes tracing the water stains on the stucco that long ago started to make the paint peel. He always saw the same angry face in that spot, growing more menacing and detailed as time went by. It was a sub-par substitute for cloud gazing, but in Hong Kong, there were no clouds, only a swathe of bleak gray. On the bedside table the faint glow of his laptop played through an episode of the X-Files, one the biologist had watched too many times to count, but it kept him company to hear the unchanging words of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Director Skinner, even Krycek.

He had a headache, but he had medication for that. He was experiencing dysphoria—he also had medication for that. He was told by Hansen to take two days to himself, and at this point he slept all he could, having gone to the hospital wing shortly after he was ordered. The physicians had their own concerns, but Dr. Geiszler was still cognizant, given new medication, and that was good enough for him.

Rolling over with a groan, Newton stared at the screen, feeling restless. His room felt like a cell, closing in on him, the rest of the world miles away. Knowing where this was going to lead, Newton decidedly rummaged through the numerous bottles on his side table, ignoring the burning, itching pain as his thighs touched. Shaking out one tiny white pill into his palm, he hid it under his tongue.

Sitting up, Newton slipped his feet into his boots, loosely tying the laces so they wouldn't drag. He stretched, rubbed his hand over the thick stubble across his jaw, and stood. Pulling a hoodie over his head, Newton quickly slapped the spacebar on his laptop, and left his room, not a clue as to what time it was.

The halls were empty, indicative of early morning. At least since Pitfall. Like clockwork the kitchen lights were on in the mess, the rich, earthy scent of coffee bringing a faint comfort. Wrapping both hands snugly around the cup the biologist absorbed the warmth, and slowly made his way up to the roof. A sepia tinge crept up from the horizon, the sky emerging blue over the ocean to the east. It was rare to catch a glimpse of the sky in Hong Kong beyond billboard pictures, but the smog was certainly less dense out to sea.

Below, the heli-deck bustled with activity. Opting for privacy, Newton settled himself just next to the door in which he exited. Lighting up a cigarette he took turns sipping his coffee between long drags, watching as the smoke dissipated on the breeze. It was that time of morning where dawn quickly gave way to daylight. Dr. Geiszler was rarely outside at this time, but he relished moments like this, taking in the seemingly picturesque world around him, colored like an old Polaroid. The wind wasn't terribly unbearable, allowing the biologist to spend two more cigarettes looking out until the sound of incoming helicopters tried his patience. Before heading back inside, he chanced a look over the edge to find Marshal Hansen, arm slung at his chest, talking to military personnel on the deck.

Dr. Geiszler kept his eyes low as he walked through the Shatterdome. He wasn't trying to hide, he was simply thinking, the benzo kicking in after stimulating his brain with caffeine and nicotine. Floating back to the lab the biologist longingly looked at all he wasn't allowed to touch, at least for a few more hours. Heading over to a shelf he grabbed a cassette at random and dropped it into the tape deck. Depressing play, the lab was flooded with the milieu of his youth. Catching on quickly, Newton began to mumble along to the words, bobbing his head as he meandered along. On the same shelf housed a collection of sketchbooks, the one on the far right brought to his desk and opened to the next fresh page. Grabbing an errant pencil, Newton sat cross-legged in his chair, and began loosely defining a faint series of lines. The more he drew, the less attentive he became in keeping up with the music. Only taking notice when the auto-reverse function kicked in—thankful for such modest technological benefits—he immediately became lost on the page once more.

He wasn't sure how long he had been drawing, or how many times the A and B sides repeated themselves, but before him Otachi began to take shape, mouth open to curling tentacles, winged forelimbs spread back. A new tattoo, perhaps, in its early conceptual stages. There were few places on his body that were empty, and Otachi was being drawn with his neck in mind. Most would call it a job-killer, but Newton never worried about career eligibility, not at this point in his life.

Each sketchbook on the shelf contained within them at least one of the Kaiju on the biologist's skin. He designed all of his tattoos. He appreciated each artist's individual skill, but when it came down to anatomical accuracy the task was wholly dependent upon the scientist's biological expertise. Dr. Geiszler's body was a scrapbook of his work and where it brought him—Boston, Anchorage, Los Angeles, Lima, Vladivostok, Tokyo, Nagasaki, Sydney, Hong Kong—and he wouldn't be caught dead with any ink that was less than perfect.

Staring down at the page Newton thought back to Otachi, how close he was to her in the re-purposed fallout shelter. The memory would prove nothing else but traumatic to the civilians that crowded around him that night, slowly backing away to let the hapless man be victim, but the doctor recalled the memory to draw details with savant-like accuracy. The number of ridges on her back, the sac at her throat, the number of eyes, and how her jaw split in two. Vision going blue he saw the event from both angles. As himself, as Otachi. In the middle of his reverie a hand found a firm place on his back, on his shoulder, causing Newton to gasp, gnawed pencil falling from his mouth. His posture straightened, jolting him out of the flashback.

“Fuck,” Newton breathed. “Don't do that, dude.” He slumped his shoulders forward, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses.

“Sorry,” Hermann said softly.

The biologist heard a drip, looking down to find a perfect wet circle of blood, thankfully, on the bottom edge of the page. He cursed, using the heel of his hand to swipe at it, creating a long, browning streak. The same hand was brought up to his nose. Standing, Newton made to grab a small handful of paper towels from the slop sink before returning slowly to his desk. Hermann stared.

“You really did it again,” the physicist noted, on the edge of awe and anger. As the biologist shot his colleague a glare Dr. Gottlieb was finally able to see the deep red of the man's left eye, so saturated it was nearing black. Dr. Geiszler's other eye began to match, but the two scientists no longer did.

“And?” Newton quipped, taking care of the additional droplets he initially failed to notice against the black lacquer of the desk. All Hermann could do was sigh.

“I'm not in the mood for this, Newton.”

“Good, neither am I,” Dr. Geiszler added, less defensive than before as he stared down at his feet.

“Look,” Hermann began, shifting on his feet. “I wanted to make sure that you were okay, but I am very tired. I am going to sleep, and if I know you as well as I think I do, I might suggest you do the same.” The physicist pivoted and began to turn towards the door. “Don't think I won't be talking to you about,” Hermann stabbed the tip of his cane toward the Pons, “ _this_ , again.” Post-threat, he was gone.

Newton didn't want to feel guilty, but try as he might, he did. Tendo was angry at him, and now that the other member of K-Sci returned, he had two men whom he wanted desperately to avoid. Dabbing at his nose all that he saw was the remnants of his nosebleed that settled into his growing mustache. Balling up the paper towel, it was tossed into the trash. Standing, Newton walked over to the stereo, and shut it off.

Scanning his CDs, cassettes, errant comics that have found their way out of his room, the biologist began to feel absurd. He ambled back to his desk, staring down at the drawing he started, lips twisting at the mess he made on the page. Flipping back a few pages he reached Mutavore, the last complete design he drew with his thigh in mind—a birthday present to himself—but that option was lost since February, on hold until he got his shit together, until his body healed. He didn't get the chance to celebrate his birthday, having forgotten it himself until he received a belated card in the mail from Onkel a week after Pitfall.

It had been nearly a year since Newton was last tattooed, and when he sauntered back into the Shatterdome high on endorphins, pant leg rolled up to his knee, he nearly got jumped. His reputation had not yet been wholly understood by those in Hong Kong, having carefully hid under long sleeves the first few weeks after reassignment, but Dr. Geiszler was used to it. He understood the disgust, he only wished to be given the benefit of the doubt, a chance to explain, and perhaps have the opportunity to at least flinch before a fist cracked into his jaw. Since then his tattoos became a non-issue, for the most part. The biologist's controversy now laid beyond his physical permanence to the Kaiju.

Collaborating with Dr. Lightcap, Newton's fidelity took a sharp dive, and he was about to do it again. There was no gun to his head, Newton could always opt out citing safety concerns but it was difficult weighing the social ramifications against the dangling carrot of knowledge. He swallowed, glancing across the room at the fridge where Scunner sat in frosty limbo. Shivering, he could almost feel the cold himself, wondering how his situation could possibly get any worse. Shifting his eyes to the clock on the wall, he had eight more hours until he found out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this chapter up much sooner but the file got corrupted... But, crisis averted!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Seht ihr mich?  
> Versteht ihr mich?  
> Fühlt ihr mich?  
> Hört ihr mich?  
> Könnt ihr mich hören?  
> Wir hören dich  
> Könnt ihr mich sehen?  
> Wir sehen dich  
> Könnt ihr mich fühlen?  
> Wir fühlen dich  
> Ich versteh euch nicht"
> 
> ["Ich Will", Rammstein](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOnSh3QlpbQ)   
> 

The objective was simple enough, the modus operandi not so much. Dr. Gottlieb's job was now predicting whether or not another event was possible, and if so, when. It was a tall order, there were no variables to base his calculations on—at this point he might as well scry into a crystal ball. The man didn't want to admit it, but here, where data ran dry and calculations failed him, the only way of knowing was to just wait and see. Hermann didn't even want to consider relying on Newton's methods, so the physicist told the Marshal he would work to the best of his ability.

Having slept well into mid-afternoon, Hermann felt ready enough to forge into scrambling for any sensible algorithm that might glean insight to the activity detected by Mission Control. The physicist liked to believe that maths made sense of the universe, often stating its significance to biology whenever Newton preened, but sometimes random is random, and calculating mystery is augury, pure and simple. Newton's method was still a terrible idea.

The source of Hermann's worry and ire trudged into the lab, coffee in hand—no eye contact made, not so much as a verbal acknowledgment. He looked tired, haggard, nearly limping in a pair of tight gray corduroy slacks. Approaching the stereo, the space became flooded with an alarmingly loud melange of synth and percussion—its lyrics jarring in the scientist's native tongue. Hermann hated this genre, no matter what language.

Newton muttered along to the lyrics, sending a ripple up his colleague's spine as he shuffled to his desk, falling back into the chair. He picked at the bandage wrapped around his thumb, revealing a discolored gash when he tossed the soiled gauze in the bin. Swiveling his chair towards the back of the lab, Newton stood to walk towards the sink. The music droned on, the distant sound of running water inhibiting Hermann's ability to concentrate. Most days the physicist would throw something at Newton, at his stereo, but since his return from London; broken glass was laid under every step. Gathering his cane and blazer Dr. Gottlieb moved to leave, and nearly collided with a blonde in a lab coat.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!”

She gasped with a hand to her heart, and a sudden look of recognition blossomed across her face. “Dr. Gottlieb, yes?” she asked, recovering quickly. “I thought you were away. How was your trip?” The woman then shook her head, blonde ponytail whipping the back of her head. “How silly of me, I should introduce myself. Hi, I'm Caitlin,” she stated, hand elevated in anticipation of a handshake. “Dr. Gottlieb, yes. A pleasure.” The physicist's wry grin turned genuine when he heard the music behind them turned off. He confidently took her hand in his. Enamored in introducing himself to the woman who pioneered Pons tech, Hermann jumped when a freshly bandaged hand landed square on his shoulder; his heart only beat faster when he turned and met a sickly pair of eyes. Noticing Hermann's discomfort, Newton dropped his arm, his eyes, and his posture. The biologist withdrew, shoving his hands deep within his pockets.

Oblivious to the silent storm between the two K-scientists, Caitlin maintained her bubbly disposition. “I'm a little bit early, hope you don't mind.” Shaking his head, Newton mustered a half-hearted smile. “No worries, everything is pretty much set up anyway,” he shrugged, and chanced another careful look up towards Hermann, eyes vibrating between him and Dr. Lightcap. “Uh, I'll just,” Newton motioned behind him with his plastered thumb, and left the two at the door. Hermann lingered on a sigh, taking his glasses off to hang on his chest. Dipping her head, Caitlin couldn't help but comment.

“What's up with him?” she asked in a low whisper.

“Nothing much, I hope...” Hermann mused, scratching the jaw he neglected to shave that morning. Dr. Lightcap hummed, not entirely sure what to make of the K-scientist's fragile dance. From within the lab Newton's desk chair could be heard rolling across the concrete. “Well, I don't mean to hold you up, but I would love to get a chance to talk to you if you have the time,” she stated. How could Hermann say no, she was a complete delight. He obliged. “Of course, it was lovely meeting you.” Exchanging smiles, they traded places as Dr. Gottlieb left.

Hermann didn't need to stay to know what was about to happen. It was written all over Newton's face whether it was guilt, fear, grief—shunned for the sins of his actions. Dr. Gottlieb couldn't blame the pursuit of knowledge under such unpredictable circumstances. Dr. Geiszler had done far more stupid things. But in the wake of 'My Dearest Hermann', in sharing an entire bottle of bourbon, Newton was more than a biologist. He was a friend with a spectacular death wish.

Leg and cane carried Hermann heavily upstairs to LOCCENT. It was pleasantly calm, but eerie, surveying the room where every pair of eyes trained like hawks upon each display. Reliably, Tendo was reclined at his station, feet elevated and phone in hand. At Hermann's approach he sat upright, black wingtips on the floor as he spun in his chair. “Heya, brother!” he exclaimed a little too loudly. “I just started watching you, my man.” Standing, Tendo encouraged Hermann to take his seat, grabbing a spare from an adjacent desk. It was bizarre for Hermann, observing himself on the small screen. The phone was held between them, cupped in the officer's hand on the arm rest. It was hard to believe that filming had been just two days ago. A lot had happened since then.

“So when did you get back?” Tendo asked over the program, drinking in the novelty of sitting next to the man he'd been watching. “Early this morning,” Hermann groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose at the memory of losing almost an entire day in transit. He couldn't recall the last time he enjoyed the daylight. “Have a good time?” Tendo switched his eyes from his phone to Hermann. Having been predisposed to the events of Pitfall already, there was no real purpose to watch other than to see his friend on international news. Hermann wondered who else was tuned in.

“More than I care to admit, to be quite honest. However, I'm glad I'm back, in light of recent events.” Officer Choi hummed, then suppressed a chuckle Hermann didn't like in the least. “Yeah, brother, you go out on a date?” The doctor's face couldn't be any more elongated. Tendo's grin only grew more sinister, his prodding more effective than any mother's. “It was all over the Daily Mail,” the meddler stated. Hermann scoffed in return, feigning disinterest. “What a rubbish rag.” Tendo bodily turned towards the man next to him, Dr. Gottlieb's explanation of Breach mechanics now wholly ignored as it played in the background.

“You and Vanessa _are_ an item, then!” Officer Choi tried to keep his excitement to a minimum, nevertheless Hermann flushed as he felt the collective gaze of the room bore into him.

“Absolutely not!” The exclamation didn't help as he met the scrutiny of a female J-tech just feet away. “I mean, no,” Hermann composed himself. “We're just friends.” Nodding, Tendo diffused the excitement, “I see, I see. Sorry, you didn't say _no_ initially, and...” he trailed off, having begun to swivel his chair side to side with the toe of his shoe for the next minute.

“So...” Leave it to Tendo to pursue a friend's social discomfort. “Have you talked to Newt at all?” Considering the officer's tone, he was just as vexed as Hermann, his previous enthusiasm completely gone.

“Beyond expressing my discontent with what he's doing, not properly, no.”

“Yeah, I might have blown up at him...” Tendo idly toyed with the rosary on his wrist. “That probably wasn't the best thing for him, not right now.”

Confirmation. Dr. Geiszler was in a bad place, but what could either of them do? Wedged between stigma and his health, the biologist had no choice but to Drift—he had nowhere else to run. Sitting in quiet both watched as Lars took the reins, explaining the events he was not witness to.

“I was wondering,” Hermann began. “Would I be able to get any of the data you gathered this past week? I have no more than speculation at the moment.”

“Sure thing. Got it all here, as a matter of fact. Herc asked for it two days ago, but I'll also get you yesterday and today's readings as well.” Condensing the data, Tendo made quick work of sending the files to Hermann's internal account. The physicist could very well return to the lab and start to make sense of the numbers, but it could wait. Hermann would much rather avoid  any thought of what was going on in K-Sci at the moment. It made his stomach churn.

Dr. Gottlieb's constitution improved having to work with Dr. Geiszler all these years. Not fully immune, nevertheless all the Kaiju parts and the various secretions and smells they emitted hadn't compromised Hermann's stomach since Vladivostok. He was proud to have developed a grace in dealing with Newton's obscene idea of humor—that grace being the ability to hover over the biologist as he cleaned up whatever detritus he tossed over the yellow line. There was no other way the mathematician was able to ensure sanitation. Minor hemophobia-enduced fainting spells aside, there wasn't much that Newton could do in the lab that could faze his colleague anymore, but when Hermann found the man seizing on the floor, the memory would haunt him forever. He'd rather not witness it again.

A low murmur erupted. Like a wave it traveled fast as the sound of trilling beeps overtook the hectic chatter between gathering techs. Nearly knocking his chair over, Tendo and a few others rushed to a single display. Honing in on the seismogram overlay, a moment of clarity and subsequent rush of adrenaline forced the officer's palm to slam on the desk. In lieu of the intercom, Tendo dialed a number on his cell.

“You gotta get up here, Herc,” the officer paced, phone to his ear.

With considerably less haste Dr. Gottlieb stood and walked towards the seismic map—a large red dot marked east of Guam, right over Challenger Deep.

“Right, yeah. Just a minute ago. I won't, sir, not until you get here,” Tendo confirmed over the phone, and hung up. Settling next to Hermann the officer crossed his arms. His face spoke of grim news. Within minutes the Marshal rushed in, J-techs parting the floor in a clear path as he marched through. Face shining with sweat, Hansen maintained an admirable calm.

“Sir, we just detected a 5.1 on Challenger Deep,” Tendo began, pointing it out amongst a number of other, smaller incidents. Hermann cleared his throat, and voiced his thoughts, “But the trench is a fault line. Is it not just another earthquake?” Regret wavered in his voice the moment he opened his mouth, but the interjection proved helpful as the officer nodded. “It is, but, it's not.” To illustrate his point, Tendo sat back down at his console, pulling graphs and data that, to the layperson, looked innocuous enough.

“I-I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner...” he stuttered, trying his superior's patience when the Marshal shot him a look. Apologizing, Tendo laid out an array of seismic activity from the past week in chronological order. When Hermann surveyed the data, something looked off. He brought attention to the anomaly. “The propagation is different,” he stated, finger trailing through the air. Sensing Hansen's confusion, Tendo launched into its significance. “You can see here that the waveforms are different than the rest here,” likewise, the officer brought attention to the differences of each graph. “Earthquakes generate shear wave propagation, like these, but explosive energy generates compressional waves, like what we just picked up.”

A spark of realization overtook Herc's face. “Son of a bitch was right.”

Never had Dr. Gottlieb felt so removed, lost beyond basic facts. He knew waveforms, he knew how energy traveled, but there was missing context. Something the Marshal hadn't told him over the phone. Hermann's brain, Hermann's heart begged to know.

“Who was right, what is this about?”

As Herc tapped his chin, Tendo offered insight. “When Newt Drifted again he claimed he saw Kaiju bio-engineered to basically... explode.”

Hermann didn't know how to feel—only recently was the discovery of intelligent design made. By Newton, no less.

“What should we do, sir?” Tendo asked. Herc stood still, immovable, focused far beyond the data in front of him. “Gottlieb,” the addressed looked up in panicked anticipation. “Help him analyze the data and see if you can find any reliable patterns. Everyone else, stay vigilant.” The excitement having died down, the Marshal's order was met with quiet agreement. Dr. Gottlieb would now be calling Mission Control home.

“Tendo?” The small voice was that of a J-tech stationed at the PPI display.

“Is that Faith?” she asked, eliciting a few chuckles from around the room.

“Faith?” Hermann wondered aloud. He was beginning to feel annoyed, having asked more questions than he felt comfortable with. A tech a few desks down leaned back in his chair to cry, “It's Tendo's pet whale!” Another round of laughter erupted at the officer's expense. “Ha. Ha. Ha... jerks,” he mockingly sang to his crew, feeling it necessary to point out, “It's a whale, alright?” Rolling his eyes, Tendo turned his attention back to the screen, leaning in to get a closer look as the radar refreshed itself. Under closer scrutiny, Tendo couldn't be so sure, and hopped back into his seat at the command panel to observe the holo-display. “That's not—” he muttered to himself, cut off by a set of heavy footsteps converging on LOCCENT.

“Don't!” The yell effectively made everyone jump.

“Just... Don't do anything to her!” he took a moment to catch his breath, but as soon as he ran in, Newton was gone, running back down the stairs. Stopping him was futile, as the Marshal called his name to no effect. His next course of action was to glance back at the command panel for an answer.

“Her? What's he on?”

At risk of causing a panic, Tendo kept his voice low. “A Kaiju, sir.”

Hermann felt his pulse quicken, suddenly overcome with a great urge to sit. Looking out over the Jaeger Bay, its state was pitiful. Twisted scraps of metal littered the floor, the docks empty. Instead the mechs lay in pieces only identifiable via color: crimson, olive, gray. Blue, nowhere in sight, obliterated at the bottom of the ocean.

“What category?” Herc asked calmly. If Tendo hadn't been heard, the room definitely knew now. “I don't think I can categorize this one, brother...” the officer looked at the screen, flummoxed.

“Call it a six, a seven... They're probably only going to get bigger.” If no other time than now, Herc wished for Stacker at his side—anger flaring, feeling completely vulnerable. The whole of the Shatterdome relied on him, the last vestiges of the PPDC. They are the PPDC, the last line of defense.

“No, no, no. That's the strange thing,” Tendo began curiously. “It's so... small.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It so smol, tho...


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  "You could smell it  
> So you left me on my own  
> To complete the mission  
> Now I'm leaving it all behind
> 
> I'm going hunting  
> I'm the hunter..."
> 
> ["Hunter", Björk](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CyM5wow-hUk>)   
> 

The Shatterdome was on lockdown—all personnel on stand-by until further notice. Armed soldiers stood guard at every bay, and every exit. LOCCENT techs manned their stations, on high alert as they combed each nearby sea, up and down the Pacific, as far and wide as technology could reach. After Officer Choi's first sighting, the Kaiju's position had been lost. At that moment Hansen was wrought with a difficult decision; Speak, or light the signal flame at the dawn of a renewed apocalypse. It was a question of safety, the Marshal refusing to whip the public into a frenzy in the wake of a threat that might not actually exist. Waiting for physical proof was equally as dangerous, but if the past twelve years worth of scientific advancement hadn't been pure fiction, there might be a man who had some answers.

For two hours Hermann watched as the Jaeger Bay filled with mechanics. An amazing display of dedication as they began to work through the scrap brought in over the past two weeks, turning the metal graveyard into Jaeger triage. It was admirable—as word traveled quickly—to see them assemble rather than flee. Hermann couldn't doubt a few wet feet, but even if those few wanted to leave they'd have to get through six inches of steel before they could get outside. They'd fare better within the base.

“Hey,” Tendo yawned, stretching his body as languorously as he could given the size of his chair. “Wanna go get some coffee or something?” It was midnight, and adrenaline stores had already been spent. Luckily for Hermann he hadn't yet readjusted from his trip. Nevertheless, a hot beverage sounded appealing. Taking inventory of his things, Hermann joined Tendo for a leisurely walk.

It was a pleasant surprise to find both Mori and Beckett in the break room. Herman encouraged the two to join them at a table. Recovering from a late sparring match in the Kwoon, the pair felt it prudent to be ready for anything.

“Is it true?” Mako asked, hands tight around her water bottle. Her partner was just as eager for more information, pitching in to her curiosity. “Yeah, we heard from a tech that a Kaiju came through. What's going on?” Raleigh leaned in close, his arms crossed on the table. Stirring his coffee, Tendo devised a brief explanation. “Well, we're not one-hundred percent sure, but it seems that the breach is active and kaiju are now explosive. I'd have reason to doubt that, but Hermann and I went over the data and we don't really have any other explanation for the unique waveforms we've been detecting. Compressive versus explosive forces, and the works.” The doctor nodded over his tea in agreement.

“So, what, are they trying to make their way back through by brute force?” Beckett asked.

“Seems so, for about a week now,” the officer bubbled around a mouthful of coffee.

“And you're positive a Kaiju came through the Breach?” The pilot had to be double sure. Tendo crossed himself, holding his hand up, palm out. “Swear to God, brother—according to the read-out. I saw something emerge, but then we couldn't track it down again. But the weirdest thing is how small it was.”

“Small?” Raleigh mirrored Tendo's initial disbelief, and shook his head.

They sat in silent consideration. Tendo began work on his second mug, Hermann next to him staring into his cooling tea as numbers ran through his head, looking up once Mako had begun to spin her empty plastic water bottle on the table. Multiple times she met Hermann's eyes, which started to make the man feel a tad uncomfortable under her inexplicable scrutiny.

“You told us that the only way to enter the Rift was with Kaiju DNA,” she recounted, receiving affirmation from the doctor who in part made the discovery. “That's how we were able to get so close—carrying the Kaiju with us. But, it was dead. Do you think that what you saw might have just been a piece, a body part that managed to come through?” Miss Mori's speculation was positively brilliant, Dr. Gottlieb telling her as much. “That may explain why we have yet to locate the Kaiju,” the scientist mused.

“Maybe, maybe not. We still have no idea. Regardless we should keep on our toes, just in case the worst happens,” Tendo lamented.

“Herc's already talking to the Australian military, if anything we'll have the RAAF at our backs while he tries to get funding. Looks like there's a lot going on in the Bay, too, from what Mako saw.” The young woman nodded enthusiastically at her co-pilot. “Yes! It looks like they might try assembling a new Jaeger with what they salvaged,” she relayed.

“We'll be ready for 'em.” Raleigh's excitement was admirable as he collided his fists in a display of machismo. It was a little too soon for Dr. Gottlieb to share in the Pilot's enthusiasm, but he was thankful as it balanced out his own apprehension. The sight of eager techs hard at work well into the small hours of the night brought him back to his purpose. None of them should be happy that there was reason to revive the PPDC to its former glory, but if that were to happen it would be nothing short of a display of humanity's collective resilience.

Raleigh spoke up. “So where's Newt? We haven't seen him in like, a week.” At the biologist's name the kaffeeklatsch grew dim. Mako roughly nudged her co-pilot's shoulder.

“We haven't had sight of him since he left Mission Control,” Dr. Gottlieb stated, his witness agreed. “Yeah, he ran in and like a bat out of hell he was gone. Herc tried to stop him but no one's seen him since. A shame, I'd like to at least thank the guy because if it weren't for him I'd never have caught on to the waveform propagation.”

“He did Drift?” Mako's voice was soft. The Shatterdome had been filled with nothing but gossip regarding employment, deaths, and publicity. Apparently, Newton's work had not escaped the gaze of gossip's all-seeing eye. The look Tendo and Hermann gave were all the confirmation either Pilot needed.

“Is he okay?” Too sweet, Mako's heart couldn't justify the means to criticize the man.

“That's debatable.” Conversely, Hermann was still conflicted.

Calling it a night the pilots were off to their bunks after Tendo decided it best to at least visit the J-tech underlings before passing out on his feet. Despite his exaggeration, the officer wasn't as tired as he claimed to be as he, and Dr. Gottlieb returned to LOCCENT. Down below the techs seemed to be making progress—utilizing heavy machinery to organize the scrap categorically in different piles. Their numbers dwindled as night began to give in to early morning.

Having checked his phone, the officer let out a sigh of relief. “Seems like no one blabbed to the media yet, and there's no word anywhere about another Kaiju. Oh, but look! A Kaiju theme park in Japan is already being planned to open in twenty twenty-eight.” Distracted, the officer nearly missed bringing his stale coffee up to his mouth. “Heh, the Tokyo Shatterdome had a mascot, did you know that?” Tendo turned his phone to show Hermann a dancing Onibaba plush costume. “Kinda morbid... I bet Newt would get a kick out of this.”

The name made Hermann's stomach churn. Having talked to Dr. Lightcap since the biologist's harried, brief appearance, she explained how... emotive his Drift had been. Following a violent series of spasms his throat gave way to a cacophony of disjointed half-noises before falling to the floor, scrambling, picking himself up, and running out of K-Sci so fast he nearly dragged the Pons along with him. She had no more clue as to where he went than anyone else.

“You're worried about him,” Tendo observed.

Scrutinizing the deep red lacquer of his cane, Hermann could think of nothing but Newton's eyes.

“Me too...” Pocketing his phone, Tendo surveyed the room. “Listen, as much of a ninja he likes to believe he is, he'll come out of hiding sooner or later.” Dr. Gottlieb tried to ignore the additional “I hope” that followed Tendo's statement. He had never attempted to find his colleague when he went unnoticed for days on end, but knowing what he did now, and taking into consideration recent events, he wanted nothing more than to find him. He didn't care so much where his partner was physically, but mentally. Alone, Dr. Geiszler could wreak much more havoc.

“Tell me,” the physicist implored. “Was he okay...with my abscence?”

Tendo's face softened into a knowing frown. “He was on a high just before you left. I don't think I ever saw him that happy.” He placed his empty mug on the console. “I don't think I'd ever seen him this bad, either. I didn't see him until the day before he went through with the Drift. Then I went and chewed him out right after and didn't see him again until tonight.” Tonight was a loose term, the digital clock over the Jaeger Bay reading just shy of 2am. What Tendo would give to have life return to normal—if normal meant waiting for the next Category V or VI, so be it. So long as he could accompany Newt on on his smoke breaks and regale him with inconsequential tabloid news over a hot coffee, all would be right with the world.

“Wait—” Tendo gripped the arms of his chair. “I think I know where Newt is!”

Hermann hoped the man was right as he was quickly led through back hallways the scientist never knew existed. Blood pulsing through his ears after the first three flights of stairs he grew frustrated, feeling more lost the further they went.

“Just one last flight of stairs,” Tendo encouraged, slowing his pace to accommodate Hermann's visible discomfort.

True to his word the last flight of stairs hid beyond an emergency exit. Holding his breath as the door was pushed open, no alarm kicked much to the doctor's relief. The set of stairs looked virtually untouched, no surprise as to the absence of the armed guards stationed elsewhere. Ascending, their footsteps echoed off the cold concrete. Head down, Hermann noticed a dark spot on the yellow paint, smudged across in a red streak as Tendo's foot lifted in front of him. Determined, the doctor ignored his pain to finish the last dozen steps.

An initial gust whipped through the open door. Outside was dark. No lights lined the perimeter of the roof, but the subtle glow of the decks below cast a silhouette that sat nearly unnoticed, just shorter than the guardrail. Hermann stood to catch his breath as Tendo jogged to meet his friend. The officer's shadowed head bobbed as he talked, but nothing but a murmur could be heard above the ambient wind. Putting a hand to Newton's back Tendo turned to face the figure at the door—or so it looked from a distance. Relying heavily on his cane, the physicist limped to the edge of the roof.

“Hey, Hermann's here,” Tendo's voice was gentle, inches from the biologist's ear as he pat his back. Newton didn't so much as budge. His forehead laid against the middle rail, slumped forward with his legs dangling off the edge. With great effort, Hermann knelt down and experienced a rather satisfying pop in his hip. It felt so good to sit.

The past few weeks grew Newton's stubble to a thickening beard, back-lit by the floodlights on the heli-deck. A single bead fell from his saturated upper lip onto a growing stain in the light gray corduroy on Newton's lap. He'd been sitting there for a while.

“Newton, you need to come back inside,” his colleague plead. Dr. Geiszler's eyes finally open. He let out a shuddered breath and shifted the tiniest bit.

“She's out there,” the biologist hushed, kneading the fabric at his knees.

“What's out there, Newt?” Tendo could venture a guess, but kept initiating conversation.

“The Kaiju.”

Whether or not this was true was questionable in light of Mako's theory, and Newton's current state didn't help as he looked expectant and terrified toward the South China Sea. Periodically he flinched, blinking in rapid succession. Officer Choi looped an elbow under his friend's arm in an attempt to get the man to stand. “It's late, and we need to get you back inside. The Shatterdome is on lockdown and everyone's been looking for you, brother.” Miraculously the biologist stood, albeit limply, mirroring their exhaustion. With great effort the three shuffled back inside.

The task of getting Dr. Geiszler back to his bunk went unnoticed. Having said nothing since the roof Newton lamely allowed Tendo to aid in removing his boots and his shirt in the privacy of his room. Feigning courtesy as he heard Newton's belt come undone Hermann occupied himself by rinsing and filling a small glass in the en suite. Returning, he found his colleague already under the thin comforter. Scanning the array of bottles on the side table Dr. Gottlieb found multiple instances of amphetamines, benzodiazepine, SSRIs, barbiturates, and even an unfinished cycle of antibiotics. Picking a prescription for its warning label, the physicist shook out a single dose, and pressed it into Newton's palm.

Hermann settled himself on the edge of the bed, abandoning the water on the side table as Newton turned onto his side after having placed the dry pill under his tongue. Tugging gently at his colleague’s shirtsleeve Newton groaned into his pillow, his eyes too heavy to open. Grip going lax on Hermann's wrist, the hand snaked away as the cocooned man rolled over to face the wall. Newton's tattoos stretched and rippled over his back, disappearing under the covers when they were pulled over his head. The form shivered momentarily, and within minutes Newton's breathing evened out to the lull of overdue rest.

“Is he asleep?” Tendo whispered from the sink. Hermann nodded, trying not to focus too much on the errant blood-patterned towels that poked out from under the bed.

“What did you give him?” the officer asked. He moved around the room, picking up the towels off the floor next to Hermann's feet.

“Lorazepam. Have you done this often?”

“Enough,” Tendo sighed, balling up the last piece and tossing it into the neglected trash can. “I'm sure I don't need to explain, after you two Drifted.” Dr. Gottlieb reflected on the abstract nature of the experience. His knowledge wasn't so much Drift-related as old-fashioned sleuthing.

“As selfish as it sounds I'm actually kind of glad I have some help now. Stacker actually cued me in on this task. Since he died I've been Newton's only... caretaker, if you will,” Tendo admitted, scanning the room for anything he might have missed. “Newt's a good guy, but God help him he's a handful.”

Standing as gently as he could, Hermann grabbed his cane and parked himself near the door. He'd seen Newton's room only a handful of times—never in the same Shatterdome more than once. Every instance of his dorm was equally as messy, not so much trashed but cluttered in that 'eccentric genius' way. However, it was bathed in the subtle sickeningly sweet smell of self-neglect.

“I think it's time for bed,” Tendo tiredly observed. Hermann agreed, and they shut the door behind them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lengthy wait for this chapter. November has not been a forgiving month, but I have high gift-giving hopes for the month of December! Enjoy!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  "What if the beast escapes (Apes have it good)  
> And separates like a cloud (Loud like a fault),  
> Seeps into the hollow bones?  
> Wouldn't its eyes expand  
> And zero in like a scope?  
> I might feel better  
> Knowing I wasn't alone"
> 
> ["Cool Song No.2", MGMT](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zg2IcEHWXWo)   
> 

The Shatterdome was no longer on lock down. The tri-colored lights that peppered the hallways were not an ominous red, but a cautious yellow. In LOCCENT the physicist stood watch over the buzzing activity of the Jaeger Bay as he ate a late breakfast. The day's mission was calculating the energy progression upon the Breach, and checking in on his counterpart. The latter was going to prove more difficult.

“Still nothing,” Officer Choi sighed, sounding somewhat bored. “In Challenger Deep, I mean. There was one small earthquake off the coast of the Aleutian Islands though, but nothing to write home about.”

The transition in schedule to pre-Pitfall was jarring, but painless. Dr. Gottlieb was an organized man, and welcomed the collective return to expectation—leaving his bunk for the bustling hallways, planning to work well into the night where he could walk the halls in private. He had yet to experience the full effect, but if mathematical patterns in predetermined data proved reliable, the halls would quiet once again come half-twenty.

“I should have the prediction model ready by the end of the day,” Hermann began, flinching as a forklift almost speared the ball-joint of one of Crimson Typhoon's elbows. Which arm, he had no idea. Unbeknownst to the near calamity below, Tendo met the K-scientist with an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Under the watchful eye of his temporary superior the physicist should have been nose-deep in chalk, but Hermann had thrown caution to the wind, enjoying his time in Mission Control with its rhythmic displays and Tendo's irrelevant conversation. The officer wickedly chuckled.

“Still no—” he coughed around his coffee, “no news of the sighting.”

Hermann gave him a considerable look over his take-away cup, hearing a suggestive noise from the man's phone.

“Do I want to know what you _have_ found?”

Hermann was not Newton, flushing furiously when lent a glimpse at what the officer was sniggering at. Regrets and assumptions were made. From that point on, the doctor kept to his pencil, paper, and tea. One uneventful hour later a paper plane and the boots of the Marshal swept the floor of Mission Control. Accustomed to the man's parity, Dr. Gottlieb met him with a sloppy salute.

“At ease,” Hansen assured with a sigh, trudging back towards the command panel. He asked for new developments, and when met with none, quietly stood and surveyed the hangar below. He hummed, looking out to notice a familiar hunk of twisted light gray scrap being hit with a plasma cutter.

“We should expect Raafies from Darwin tomorrow—combat and surveillance,” the Marshal informed. “Also got some Williamtown knuckleheads bringing up a few Hawks. Bastards are sure to make a show once they arrive.” Herc smiled fondly around his sarcasm.

“Do they know?” Tendo carefully asked.

“As much as we do, though I may have omit the Kaiju detail. Speaking of which, any word of Geiszler?”

“He should be in his room,” Hermann glanced towards his accomplice. “I personally haven't visited him yet today.”

“He still insists there's a Kaiju out there,” Tendo found it important to add, but Herc just shook his head. “I wouldn't rely too much on that goss unless we find it ourselves. Keep yer eyes peeled and let me know if we see anything.” Sighing at his ringtone, the Marshal waved his hand and left, his day becoming more hectic.

“We should check on him,” Hermann considered once their superior's voice disappeared down the stairs. As of late Dr. Gottlieb busied himself with the new data—boring yet engaging enough—as the rest of the Shatterdome rebooted around him. He passed by the biologist's bunk a few times in the few last days, but was too afraid to knock.

“You go ahead,” Tendo conceded with an exhale, leaning back in his chair to perch his heels on the edge of the desk. “I tossed him a few snacks yesterday. Besides, I'm sure he'd be happier to see you,” the officer punctuated with a suggestive wink. Hermann didn't want to think too much on the gesture, lest he not make the trip at all. Nevertheless, he stood, and bid the man his leave before descending the stairs.

The music escaping the quarters, loud and rapid, came as a relief. Head low Dr. Gottlieb knocked too softly at first. After the second rap of his knuckles, the door surrendered to a pair of bare feet and tattooed calves. Modestly shielding his eyes Hermann peered no further up than the man's knees, trying to ignore that Newton was dressed in no more than boxer briefs. The physicist cleared his throat in waiting. Nonplussed, Newton grabbed a stray tee, and a pair of ripped denims from the floor. Hermann blindly focused on the music, convinced the savage sound had been recorded by a tin can, and opened his eyes only when Newton turned the noise off completely.

“Hey,” the biologist managed, whipping the shirt right-side out before pulling it on.

Entering the room Hermann couldn't help but note how every single light and lamp were on. The smell was getting worse, the mess the same. Dressed, Dr. Geiszler stood almost expectantly with his arms crossed in a false front. The brightness, the paranoia, the loud music; it was all proof surrogate of Newton's connection to whatever it was that happened, was happening.

“Are you okay?”

Behind his glasses the mirror-like quality of the biologist's blood-stained corneas glimmered, teetering over the edge. “No... not really,” Newton simpered, afraid to admit his weakness. The biologist didn't plan this—wrecking his mind and compromising his dignity. He was supposed to be a rock star, and found himself deep in Syd Barrett level crazy. In retrospect, this was probably par for the course. Shine on you crazy diamond.

Hermann closed the distance between himself and his colleague, dodging the books and boxes and trash that found permanent home on the floor. He grabbed Newton's elbow, and in lieu of the cluttered chair, had him sit down on the mattress.

“Come, put on your shoes.”

Slipping into an ancient pair of black chucks over mismatched socks, Newton stood and grabbed a black hoodie, zipping it up to the collar. Donning the hood, he was led out of his room, badge at his hip, essentials in hand.

Newton's stomach groaned pitifully. The closer they got to the commissary the further Newton dug into his pockets. Hermann was afraid of thrusting his colleague into the middle of a busy buffet line—not many liked Dr. Geiszler at the best of times—but the hooded figure emerged from the crowd of navy coveralls no worse for wear, and without protest. Newton had half-finished his peanut butter sandwich by the time he poured himself a coffee.

Waiting at the bay entrance, Hermann felt a nudge at his side. Fragrant Earl Grey appeared under his nose, steam billowing over the top. Accepting the tea the physicist expressed his gratitude, earning a small smile as Newton cracked his mouth around the last bites of his sandwich. The first sip was a little hot, but otherwise perfectly steeped. Watching as Newton finished the last bits of crust, Hermann offered to take him through the Jaeger Bay.

The biologist seemed to be balancing out; if anything less starved. At the sight of the floor, bustling with mechanics and crowded with bits of man's greatest creations, he pulled back his hood to take in the entirety of the hangar. It looked as if every able-bodied mechanic was present, forcing the scientists to weave their way through the maze of Jaeger parts and heavy machinery.

“Holy shit,” Newton breathed, dodging a woman in a welding mask, spinning on his heels to look back as they approached the outside. Walking backwards, he sipped his coffee, in awe of the stark contrast to just a few days prior.

On the helideck military personnel cleared space and stretched arresting wire across the ground in anticipation of the RAAF. Dr. Geiszler was happy to spectate, but the activity only offered minimal distraction from his new mania. Lured in by the sea he stared off into its expanse, finding reprieve in a cigarette. Hermann watched as Newton's hand raised, and lowered, much like the machines sorting through scrap back in the bay.

Against his better judgment the physicist grabbed the cigarette, stealing a deep drag. He thought back to late January, to the party. Conversation was difficult to start then, too, alcohol or not. He latched on to the first thing he noticed.

“I must ask,” Hermann pried. “Why do you wear that ring?” In any other tone the question would be damning. Here and now, soft around the edges, the curiosity was genuine; even if the aesthetic wasn't exactly Dr. Gottlieb's taste.

“The what?” It took a moment for Newton to process the non-sequitur. “Oh, this,” he turned his hand, examining the silver skull like he hadn't seen it in years as he took the cigarette back. “I got it in Salem.”

“Massachusetts? I never took you for the spiritual type.”

Newton gave his colleague a wry glance, sipping his coffee. “Shit's cool, dude. Can't fault a bunch of hobby botanists and geologists for their beliefs.”

“I apologize, I didn't mean—”

“No, no, it's cool...” Newton awkwardly diffused, shying away and taking an extra long drag. “Um, I mean, I just kind of ended up wandering town after picking up a few comics at Harrison's. Stopped in an occult shop around the corner when I saw some skulls in the window.” Hermann held his tongue, occupying his mouth with the end of the shared filter. “It was funny, the woman working there smirked at me when I put the ring on, asking if I wanted to be famous. I was like, yeah, I'm gonna be a fucking rock star,” he said, flashing devil-horns with his left hand, but Newton shook his head. “I suppose she was right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she told me that when people wear rings on their pinky finger it expresses a desire for fame. She asked for my palm and told me a lot of stuff about myself, my future.”

“You really don't believe in any of that tripe, do you?” Hermann couldn't help but huff around his tea. “Maybe, I dunno... it's fun.” Newton shrugged, kneeling down to tamp out the cigarette, placing his coffee at his feet. He grabbed at Hermann's tea, surprising the physicist as his hand was taken as well. The biologist hushed, ignoring the confused protests.

“She said each finger, each mound of the hand is ruled over by planets and celestial bodies,” Dr. Geiszler explained, ghosting a touch over his partner's splayed palm like a real fortune teller would. The sensation sent a shiver that radiated bodily from Hermann's head down.

“I can see why, it's like each crease makes tiny little stars...” A fingertip lightly traced the patterns along the expanse of soft pink skin. Hermann swallowed, far gone at the sight.

“So, what does my hand say about me, then?” the physicist encouraged, though willing a skeptic edge to his voice.

“I have no fucking idea,” Newton chuckled, and continued to pamper the hand in his—the biology of it more fascinating than the metaphysical, noting the subtle differences between them. Scarred, black-lacquered fingers lay short against the soft elegant length of Hermann's, who closed his around them.

“The hand has more nerve receptors per square inch than any other part of the body,” Dr Geiszler noted, chancing a light squeeze. Heart beating fast for such a calm moment, the physicist looked up. When met with a pair of bloodshot eyes he automatically gripped, hard.

Newton squeaked, flinching at the pain in his thumb. The bond broke quickly as both of Dr. Gottlieb's hands wrapped around the head of his cane, watching as his colleague nursed the digit. The physicist sputtered an apology, waved off by Dr. Geiszler's bandaged hand. “It's okay,” he assured, regretting reflex in lighting a second cigarette.

“How did you manage that?” Hermann asked in relation to the injury. It hadn't been like that before he left.

“Oh, I was, uh, stripping wire and I kind of spaced out I guess...”

“Right,” Hermann scuffed his shoe on the concrete. “Well,” he coughed, “I should, ah, I have to go do... maths...” Nodding, Dr. Gottlieb shuffled off before his colleague had a chance to exhale.

That night Hermann found himself grazing his own palm, with his own fingers. It didn't feel quite the same. The casual conversation had been more off-putting than Hermann cared to admit, reprimanding himself for leaving the man behind on the deck, but what was most disconcerting was the fact that Dr. Geiszler might be anything but alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fluff and normalcy amidst the chaos! An intermission, if you will. These two are clueless...


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  "What  
> What does it mean  
> To dream what you dream  
> To believe what you've seen?"
> 
> ["The Sparrow Looks Up At the Machine", The Flaming Lips](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Loj2EEMiicU)   
> 

K-science had always been the main consumer of the metaphorical midnight oil. As the threat of the Kaiju grew with each new event, Hermann and Newton would be found inhabiting the depths of the lab. They were fixtures in the room, as much as the desks, the chairs; Dr. Gotllieb at his chalk board, and Dr. Geiszler arm deep in a crate of uncatalogued Kaiju parts. As long as K-Sci had a hole to call their own, the doctors would be in its depths.

Such days were gone. Hermann's new haunt was the control room. Tendo's eccentricities took the place of screeching music and a swearing biologist. Computer and coding took the place of chalk and slate, and so forth until work on amending the new predictive model had stalled but an optimized version of the Jaeger's arm control libraries had been completed. Further debugging held Dr. Gottlieb's attention for hours on end, but inevitably he found himself thinking of his partner.

Little had been seen of Dr. Geiszler. The biologist's reclusive tendencies had become worse over the past weeks. No amount of knocking, food, or words both gentle and forceful were able to summon the man from his room. Hermann had his speculations—either Newton was experiencing a severe episode, his sanity compromised due to Drifts three and four, or he was privy to how his mercurial theory had become something of a running joke. The RAAF officers had been less than kind since their arrival in regards to a real Breach threat. Thankfully, their acidic drawl had been more or less restrained outside the company of their own, excluding the Marshal. Regardless, precautions were considered, surveillance was en pointe, and efforts were still being made to convince the UN of a Pacific-wide revival. Proof in point when Hermann was rudely awakened by an alarm no later than 1am.

The internal KEAS was loud enough to wake the dead, its high-pitched drone something no one had heard in almost two months. It was never something anyone had gotten used to, but with absolutely no forewarning it was easily the worst sound in the world. In an adrenaline-fueled rush Dr. Gottlieb dressed in slacks, pulling the first sweater he saw over his night shirt. The blue collared flannel that poked out from underneath the patterned argyle was the least of his worries as he grabbed his phone, badge, and cane, exiting his room to see a line of confused bed-heads poking out from their dorms. A few doors down Hermann stopped, took a breath, and pounded.

“Newton!” he yelled. There was no concern for the volume of his voice—it didn't matter, the alarm was loud enough as it was. Hermann stepped over the untouched tray of food he left the previous morning, forcing his way in to the shockingly dark mess of a room and found nothing but an empty bed littered with paper when he flipped the light switch. Miraculously the alarm ceased, and Hermann was able to hear his own pulse in sickening detail. Gathering himself the physicist toured the room, taking inventory of Newton's personal effects. Untouched boxes lined the perimeter, clothes were draped over a single chair, and books towered upon his desk, garnished with printed articles and a colorful card that read: _Alles Gute zum Geburtstag!_ Hermann left the room in a huff.

The dormitory was now giving way to sleep-addled workers, shuffling about, unsure as to where they should be. They trained for this, but with no operational Jaegers to deploy, the best they could do was gather around the efforts of what they had built so far. Abandoning any reason to cross the Shatterdome for the laboratory, Dr. Gottlieb went to the source. Officer Choi was at the helm, his prowess outweighing the fact he was still in his pajamas. The Marshal stood at his side, both closely tracking a single tiny dot on the holo-display. Passing by the rows of techs glued to their screens, the tension was palpable in the silence that preceded Dr. Gottlieb's arrival. As if anticipating his presence, Tendo addressed Hermann without having to turn around.

“Sorry about the alarm, brother, but this might be the real deal.”

Grabbing a spare chair Hermann wheeled it over and took a seat. He was not a J-tech, as such the positioning of the GPS monitor innocuous at best—the little dot could be anywhere. “How close is it?” Hermann asked, trying to make sense of the situation. Tendo pointed at the topographical map. “This is us,” he stated, relative to his finger the little dot was 70 kilometers away.

Grabbing the PA mic, Herc's unmistakable voice called for all hands on deck, resurrecting a language he hadn't spoken since Scissure. Prepared to man their craft at a moment's notice, the pilots gathered in the hangar below in strict formation, juxtaposed against the milling crowd of PPDC personnel.

“It just keeps moving closer, Marshal,” Tendo's voice was stern, an open invitation for any direction Herc had to offer.

“I'll deploy a picket crew. Set up a rapport and update them on its position once they ship out,” Herc ordered, and left. Within minutes Hermann watched as the Marshal appeared down below, flagging down the PPDC's own pilots to take on the task as he led them outside. In the wake of their superior, the other pilots dropped their line, and conversed excitedly amongst each other. Off to the side, Tendo groaned, wrapping a headset around his neck in preparation.

“How long have you been here?” Hermann asked.

“Not much longer than you. The alarm woke me up, as a matter of fact.” He leaned in close to doctor. “No doubt some overzealous third-shifter set off the KEAS, but how can I be mad... Being tired is the least of my worries.” Wringing some familiarity from the situation, Tendo leaned back in his chair, feet up, watching as the little dot converged at an excruciatingly slow but consistent pace. Waiting on contact with the helicopter, the connection never fully established itself. Suspecting a technical difficulty on his end, Tendo double-checked, even peeking behind the panel, tracing wires to exactly where they should be plugged in. He depressed a button on the mic.

“This is Mission Control, do you read? Over.”

No response. He tried again. “Do you read? Over.”

“Weird...” he whispered to himself. The officer sat up to peek out the window, and cursed. Standing, Hermann watched as a semicircle formed against the bay gate. Even those in the crowd craned their necks to try and catch a glimpse of whatever it was that made them converge in the first place. Soon, the mass began to move back, armed guards forcing them inside, rifles out in patrol carry to stand solidly at the exit.

“Shit,” Tendo cursed again. Distracted by the commotion below no one took notice of the position of the Kaiju. The tiny dot was right where Tendo pointed earlier, on top of the Shatterdome. Without a second thought Dr. Gottlieb grabbed his cane, ignoring the the call of his own name as he flew down the stairs. On the main floor he rounded the corner to enter the hangar itself, dodging and weaving through the bodies that increased in density towards the front. Breaking through he stumbled out, stopping just short of the butt of a rifle.

“We cannot let you go through,” the guard stated. Over the din the physicist nearly growled, demanding to know what kept them trapped inside. He was met with the same mechanical answer. Catching the eye of the Marshal outside, Hansen jogged towards the entryway. His nod was all Hermann needed to gain clearance, and walked through to meet the tepid spring air.

There was a hint of something all too familiar, making the scientist's nostrils flair in disgust. Before his eyes adjusted to the dark Herc led them to the far side of the deck. Hermann could see that the surveillance crew had never taken flight at all, standing in a semicircle with ancillary guards. “You may be able to help us, Gottlieb,” Herc prayed, and the guards spread to reveal a crouched figure at the rail. Hermann paused, giving a cautious look towards his superior before approaching. He took three steps forward.

“Newton?” The croon summoned no reaction.

Hermann closed the distance, kneeling to place a hand upon the man's shoulder, and heard a plaintive cry. Below, the water audibly stirred. Peering over the edge a smattering of bioluminesence shimmered just under the surface. Short of gasping the physicist stood a little too fast, losing his balance as he fell backwards to be caught by two guards just before he met the ground.

“He doesn't want us to kill it,” Hansen muttered.

On his feet again Hermann limped to stand next to his superior, terror and confusion across the whole of his face. “Why ever not?”

“I was hoping you could help us out on that front, Doctor. Damn near got himself shot using himself as a human shield,” Herc sighed, and shook his head in disdain. If it weren't for the man's safety and having gone completely mad in defending the beast below, Hermann wouldn't dare return to the ledge, but step by step the physicist approached, cajoling all the while.

“Newton?” he tried, yet again to crouch down, ignoring the pain in his hip. “You need to tell me what's going on. You're in danger if you stay here, you need to come back inside.”

“ _We_ ,” Newton hissed, “are in danger if anyone so much as hurts her.”

The pronoun caught Hermann off guard, the warning expressed in equal parts caution and misplaced admiration. Dr. Geiszler looked down with such intensity that the other scientist couldn't help but glance again, blanching at the glow.

“Then will you care to explain _why_?” Hermann's patience was wearing thin, wedged between a Kaiju and soldiers with wavering trigger discipline at best. For now they seemed safe as the Kaiju mysteriously paced. Its size was as Tendo described, posing less of a threat than even a Category I. Though it may not wreak havoc upon Hong Kong, its danger to an individual—namely Hermann, Newton, Herc, or any of the soldiers with them—was very real.

“I told you, she'll explode.”

So focused on one another neither noticed when the Marshal towered over them, leaning over cautiously to see the beast for himself. His disposition was sour, not entirely promising.

“Yes, yes, but _how,_ Newton?” Dr. Gottlieb humored the theory to stall for time.

“She only just started to show me... I—I was wrong,” he dryly laughed. Clearly detached, Newton's response did nothing to moderate Hansen's decision, who flagged two men to lift the biologist by his underarms. Dr. Geiszler instantly struggled, yelling about microbes, hydrocarbon—screaming—frightfully erupting into epileptic spasms. He was lain prone on the cold concrete, while the ocean thrashed yards below. Crawling towards his colleague Hermann hovered, taking Newton's right hand in his—regret setting in when that hand crushed his bones in a vice-like grip. As soon as he could the physicist drew back, his fingers now free, sore and throbbing in pain. Shifting his weight Dr. Gottlieb elevated the seizing man's head to prevent his colleague from concussing himself. Between pained grimaces the two scientist's met eyes. Hermann knew Newton was still in there, somewhere, beyond red and green, and it killed him. Without pageantry the biologist was lifted up, out of Hermann's care, and dragged towards the Shatterdome. There wasn't much that could be done—Newton powerless over his body, Hermann powerless over authority—and soon the stiff pairs of combat boots disappeared into the waiting crowd, Newton with them.

Herc flinched as he helped Dr. Gottlieb off the ground; though no longer in a cast, his right arm was still not fully mended. Receiving an awkward thank-you as the doctor was given back his cane, the Marshal ran both hands over his own grizzled face, at a complete loss as the Kaiju below continued to thrash like a giant, deadly, fussy child. Against all instinct Hermann shuffled towards the edge a third time, and the thrashing ceased. Amongst the constellations, six coextensive eyes blinked back to front. The beast lurched its muzzle out of the water, and Hermann was able to look into its gaping maw as it tilted its mouth skyward. Large enough to swallow him whole, the Kaiju's palate was ribbed, reminding the physicist with a shiver of his childhood, when he and his siblings watched Pinocchio for the first time. Monstro, into the belly of the beast. The stench was equally as horrendous. Mercifully the Kaiju closed its jaw, and its radiance sunk down into the murk, disappearing, as if it were never there at all.

“Can't wait to explain this one,” the Aussie groaned, and gave the doctor a sharp look. “Go on, then,” he nodded, motioning towards the hangar entrance. Hermann didn't need to ask where he needed to be, and limped his way inside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's heeeeeeeeeeere!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And what do you do when  
> Your own man kills himself and  
> How do I make friends now
> 
> And where is my Mom  
> I need to show her that  
> She taught me
> 
> And please let me  
> Die an instant death"
> 
> ["Instant Death", Beastie Boys](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-lJrSUHPoc)   
> 

It hadn't been Dr. Geiszler's first seizure, but it was by far the worst. Cradled between PPDC personnel, he had regained consciousness somewhere between the Jaeger bay and hospital. The rough grip was less than delicate. His upper arms were surely bruised, due to the force it took as his handlers subdued his last attempt to break free. He had ultimately given up, too weak to do anything more than stumble onto the sterile tile of the medical bay.

Though he did not go willingly into admission, he did not fight the hands that drove a sedative into his arm. Newton awoke to find himself stripped down, and restrained by a set of posey cuffs that firmly held his wrists and ankles. The tight belt across his waist was overkill, rendering him completely immobile. He didn't know how long he had been there, but if the biologist's previous, more recreational experiences were a reliable gauge, he would wager at least a few hours.

Newton's head throbbed, his mouth and nose overwhelmed with the metallic sting of old blood. At the back of his mind the overlapping din of foreign noise cut in and out, not unlike a radio tuned to a station that was always just out of range. He wanted peace, he wanted his own mind back but nothing could restore the carefully metered cease-fire in his head. His eyes stung as he realized where his fanaticism had brought him. Noise from the doorway brought him back to reality.

A nurse walked in to check his blood pressure, avoiding eye contact—as if Newton could focus on any one thing without his glasses. The nurse was soon replaced by the lovely woman who stitched the biologist's forehead months ago, her greeting a familiar intonation. She frowned like she did then, too, leaning over the bed to pull at each of Newton's eyelids, shining a pen light straight through beyond the pinkish grume. Drawing back the light it was tucked into her breast pocket. “You suffered a Grand-Mal seizure, Dr. Geiszler,” she stated, feeling safe enough to rest against the edge of the hospital bed.

Green around the edges, it took a moment for Newton to process a response.“Then why am I restrained?” His throat clicked as he swallowed. Lightly testing the strength of the leather around his right wrist, the D-rings lightly chimed against each other. The doctor shook her head and sighed. “It wasn't my idea. I advised against it, taking into account the possibility of a secondary seizure but...” she paused, finding it difficult to speak frankly. “You were uncooperative, and it was the only way we would have been able to treat you properly. I hope you understand.” She stood and began to walk back towards the hall.

“Wait!”

The woman paused at the door as her hand slid down the jamb, considering a private thought for a brief moment. “Patience, Dr. Geiszler,” she said softly, and then she was gone.

Newton found his diaphragm struggling underneath the tension, his blood pressure rising, and a sense of panic began to set in. Not a wise choice for a body recovering from sedation, nor a convincing reaction of someone who wanted out. However, his fear waned in time for visitors, the erratic footfalls coupled with the biologist's near blindness made it difficult to tell who it was until the man spoke.

“It's gone.”

Newton squinted up at the Marshal. “Yeah, because I'm here.”

“So you know we didn't kill it, then?” Herc seemed impressed, a mild amusement flavoring his words. It was hard to believe the validity of the Kaiju whisperer when he was strapped to a bed. Newton huffed at the sarcasm, and smirked. “You can't deny that I was right.”

Incensed at the cocky jibe, Hansen gripped the rail next to the scientist's head, his voice low and articulated. “If this gets out, you can bet your arse that every single military body will converge upon this very base with no other intention than to shoot that thing dead. It will be an embarrassment to the PPDC, to us, to me.” The biologist was barely able to make out the large frown that overtook his superior's face, mere inches away.

Straightening his spine, Herc became a blur once again. “If you would care to actually work with us rather than against us, I'm sure we will thoroughly benefit from your expertise. Earn your keep or you will find yourself on the streets. You have until the end of the week, Geiszler. Convince us, otherwise that thing will find itself in the sight of my Raffies faster than you can say 'dishonorable discharge'.”

All Newton could do was lay his head back and close his eyes after the Marshal stormed out, mockingly mouthing 'dishonorable discharge' over and over to himself. He dug, beyond the rapid pulse he felt against each wrist, into the blue he tried to chase away with loud music and bright lights over the past few weeks.

Drifting with Mutavore put Dr. Geiszler on the radar, able to be tracked down with such accuracy by Otachi that he almost got himself killed. The second Drift gleaned further insight beyond cloned DNA, providing the Breach's nature and ultimate vulnerability. Since Drift number three Newton was something of a fly on the proverbial wall of the Anteverse, and the fourth placed a collect call to the beasts themselves. They accepted all charges, and had no intention of hanging up.

Hermann flinched as his colleagues eyes shot open. Taking a breath, he leaned over to retrieve the pair of folded black frames on the side table and gingerly aligned the earpieces across the biologist's temples, offering much needed clarity as they slipped onto his face.

“You had a seizure,” Hermann parroted the doctor, his lips pressed into an ever longer, thinner line. Newton tilted his head up towards the ceiling, closing his eyes against the fluorescent light above the bed. “So I was told.” Under his colleague's scrutiny he felt more uncomfortable than he had been with the Marshal's veiled threat.

“How many?”

Newton cracked an eye and looked at the figure next to him. From the doorway the nurse preceded the doctor into the room, stopping at the end of the bed to loosen his ankles which rolled in relief, toes wriggling beneath his socks.

“I can't say,” Newton wondered, watching as the belt unbuckled at his midsection.

“Can't, or won't?” The physicist’s eyes were closed, lashes casting elongated shadows down his cheeks.

Not wanting to give reason for the restraints to be put back into place, Newton took a deep breath. “ _Absence_ seizures, Hermann. They happened every time I—” His voice cut off, fumbling when the doctor moved between the two of them to get to his wrist. Newton resorted to both scientist's native tongue. “ _Sie wurden mit mir zu reden. Sie sind in meinem Kopf_...” The woman gave him a strange look all the same, but at least he was free as the medical staffers left the two men to their privacy. Shifting to position himself against the wall, Newton slumped as he nursed his wrists.

“Do you not realize how bloody stupid that is?” Hermann hadn't so much as moved, eyes cinched, fluttering with upset. The anger assimilated as fast as the man's criticism when Newton doubled over in bed to choke back a laugh.

“Oh, what a surprise? Dr. Gottlieb doesn't trust the ' _Kaiju Groupie_ '!” the trilled nickname was replicated with dripping accuracy.

“You hid yourself away, Dr. Geiszler. You could have died and I would have had no...”

Hermann's eyes welled, lashes clumped together in sharp glistening points, unable to complete his thought. Taken aback all Newton could do was furrow his brow and shut his mouth. The probability of losing consciousness and injuring himself was real, but he was a rock star. Rock stars didn't die by fainting and hitting their heads on sharp corners. The biologist swallowed, “I'm fine, Hermann. I'll be fine.” Too suddenly a red cane was tossed to the foot of his bed, and Newton felt his right arm seized, deft fingers running over his colorful washboard skin. He jerked, but Hermann wouldn't let go, his limb kept in a grip so tight and graced with a touch so delicate he wanted to scream. This was his, and his only. This was unfair.

“I do not know what you are going though, and I never have,” Dr. Gottlieb solemnly admitted, reading years of struggle traced upon skin like hackneyed braille. Releasing Newton's arm Hermann snatched his cane and straightened his posture, shaking the fringe out of his eyes. “Do not hide from me,” he pressed in a hushed tone, and like everyone else, left.

Slowly tucking his legs to his chest Newton rest his forehead on his knees. He felt betrayed, ashamed for his veneer to crack at the most inopportune moment. All those years he built up a shield to keep the world out allowing Dr. Geiszler to be Newt—just Newt. Running his palms up his scars the biologist shuddered.

Newton found his effects neatly folded in a bag next to his boots. Hurdling off the bed-rail he slipped into his jeans under the gown, loosening the series of bows at his back to disrobe and fully dress. He was only stopped to be reminded of his medication, and gave an unconvincing smile in return. He was only mildly surprised to find himself free to go, discharged by the Marshal himself. He walked until white tile was no longer underfoot, following the familiar path to his room. Changing his clothes, Newton emptied the small bag of metal from his pocket, wondering who it was that experienced the trouble of removing his piercings. Whoever it had been, they were thorough.

Sitting at the edge of his bed Newton ran his hands up his face and through his hair, glasses dropping askew. The pill under his tongue spread bitterness throughout his mouth. He was hungry, and Kaiju were vying for his attention.

Herc had only told him to convince them, everyone, and there was only one way to go about it. Data would out the truth, but where would he find that? Dr. Geiszler felt he needed to go back to the source, but he had no idea what anyone else thought on the matter.

Newton grabbed the wealth of paperwork from the floor, his bed, his desk, and left his room. He didn't need the Marshal to know of the Kaiju's absence. The biologist had been painfully aware of the beast's location the moment it broke though. This ghost-Drift was his z-ranked superpower, too specifically useful to be a curse, but still he'd gladly trade it for invisibility.

His nose dripped with blood, having left a haphazard trail from his room to the lab. His head throbbed painfully. This entire experience, everything, it was like a scab—a large, scaly, vexatious scab that begged to be picked. Hand poised on the latch to the fridge Newton felt the cold through the door. Dr. Geiszler tried so hard to use the passive connection he had to the Kaiju, but it seemed that all he was able to accomplish was seize and give himself a nosebleed. Still, the outcome of another Drift would be much the same, if not worse. What good was an answer if he were not alive to speak of it? He reached for the handle, but his hand paused.

It was lonely at first. Days in the lab turned into nights in the lab, and then time washed away altogether. Dr. Geiszler feared the physical and social ramification of the Drift—keen to the quiet assumptions about his solitary nights as he went for food, smoked, and walked the halls. On occasion he caught Hermann lingering in the door, at first an awkward greeting nearly whispered across the open space—no doubt an effort to monitor his colleague's behavior, his health, to make sure Dr. Geiszler didn't fuck up beyond reason. Newton couldn't stand the implied supervision for more than a few days, and instead began to work from his room. Yet that didn't stop Dr. Gottlieb from knocking at his door on a daily basis, leaving him food and offering one-sided conversation.

A new Jaeger was being constructed—a functional tribute to honor the fallen and defend against any future events. Having no Breach-related calculations to decipher, Dr. Gottlieb was recruited to help program a new OS. For Dr. Geiszler K-Sci was for the most part his, but the past couple weeks accumulated pages upon pages of speculative data in the privacy of his room. It all made sense to the biologist, but not everyone shared his history of biomedical engineering and synthetic chemistry. He needed something more, and the burden of proof ate at him.

Across the lab, the Pons sat cold. The squidcap and wires a nest beneath the machine. No one had removed it since drift number four. His speculation could provide so much, but mean so little on its own. Newton knew his answer was the correct one. Everything he had experienced within his own mind since Operation Pitfall, and specifically in the past few weeks led him to a set of assumptions that would prove true should anyone see what he had seen. Barring the ability to share the link with others, he'd come to the only end left open to him.

A flare of something within him, possibly fear, maybe shame, broke Newton's gaze from the Pons. He turned instead to the catalogue on his desk, walking towards it. Flipping through, he found his mark. His decision lay deep in the recesses of the walk-in fridge. He turned from his desk and crossed the room again.

The cold storage unit was just that. Cold. Newton's shuddered breaths danced around his head. He gripped the handles of the tank, regretting his apprehension if only for a moment when his clammy hands attached themselves to the frosty metal. With a grimace he ripped them away, pulling his sleeves over his raw palms. It took a great deal of effort for one man to pull a tank that large, but running on pure adrenaline, medicated beyond belief, Dr. Geiszler none-too-gently yanked the small wheels over the lip of the jamb and into the relative warmth of the lab. Before him, the tank rippled with brume, its contents obscured by a layer of frost.

His heart sat heavy in his chest. Not with the strain of reintroducing Scunner to the center of his workspace, but a deep-seated exhaustion brought on by the weight of responsibility. How responsible he felt for the Kaiju, how responsible he felt for failing the PPDC, how responsible he felt for pushing everyone away. Rummaging through a drawer he found his tape recorder, and depressed the red button.

“When I first considered the idea of an explosive Kaiju the biggest challenge was figuring out how such a reaction could occur from a purely biological standpoint,” Newton began, pacing around the room. “Years ago the US government recruited a team of scientists to find more natural alternatives to nuclear arms, but abandoned the project for fear of the information getting into the wrong hands. Smart on them, I guess...

“A modified yeast was being considered—a bio-weapon where the microbes would multiply at an incredibly fast rate, and combust, but it was only a theoretical project, never actually tested. However, we have already developed corn and sugarcane-based ethanol as an alternative to fossil fuels, but I'd highly doubt any farming from what I've seen of the Anteverse,” Newly chuckled dryly. All he'd seen of the Kaiju's home-world was no more than a barren wasteland.

“That got me thinking of biofuels, ones that occur naturally in nature. Clostridium came to mind, but I don't think the Kaiju even eat, ruling gastrointestinal flora out completely, but...” Newton paused, holding the the tape recorder close to his face. “Then I saw her... The Kaiju, the one that broke through... She looked like a basking shark, a filter-feeder. Their mouths look frightening but they just swim around with their mouths open, siphoning plankton.”

Dr. Geiszler stood before the Pons, and began to pull it into place by his desk.

“She—uh, the Kaiju, spent her time around Fukushima since she came through the Rift. I know it sounds crazy but I could see through her eyes—understand where she was when I saw the power plant. She made a bee-line up north, swimming around, circling, filtering, and went completely unnoticed because no one's fucking up there.” The device turned in his hands, fidgeting to calm himself down. Newton took a deep breath. “I was wasting my time trying to figure out some crazy new alternative to nuclear reaction but that's exactly what it is. The Kaiju is essentially a living H-bomb—filtering through nuclear runoff and residual deuterium and tritium from the ocean.”

Newton stooped to grab the squidcap and began to untangle the long cord. He held briefly at a particularly vexing knot before the wire fell slack between himself and the machine.

“It must be an implosion-type nuclear device bio-engineered to deliver compressive force to a deuterium gas or something. An augmented fusion reaction which could, theoretically, result in a multi-megaton explosion... I mean, I can't vouch for this concept, there's no safe way for me to get my hands on her. I have no idea if the reaction is triggered at will, but I have no doubt that it will occur when met with physical trauma. It's what the Precursors wanted from the beginning. They know we want to kill it, they know we'd shoot at it the instant it came into our sights—it's why the Kaiju is so small. Beyond being the largest body that could actually fit between the cracks that still connect them to us, it looks like a complete joke compared to what came before her. So, yeah, I highly suggest that if you do kill her, that you do so from a safe distance...”

Dr. Geiszler gave the Pons a once-over, ensuring the cable that tied it to Scunner were firmly connected. At the control panel the system was powered on, the faint hum of electricity setting every hair of his body on end. “So uh, I'm going to attempt to Drift again. Maybe I can find something definite in there. Maybe...” His voice became softer, more sober. “I don't know what I can accomplish with this, but the best case scenario is that I'm able to relay everything to your faces.”

Lowering himself into the desk chair, Newton reached up and donned the squidcap. Looking around the lab he fixated on the chalkboards half a room away.

“Hermann? I know you're probably going to listen to this and... I want you to know that this isn't your fault. The first time wasn't your fault. None of them.” Newton's voice began to waver, his hands clutching at the simple remote that would initiate his fifth Drift. The weight of the likely consequence to what he was about to do kept his thumb glued below the activation. He choked back a sob. “I'm so sorry, dude, f-for everything,” he stuttered, his eyes beginning to blur beneath his glasses. “You're so fucking amazing, dude, so fucking brilliant you don't even know. You're going to continue to do amazing things, far after this bullshit is over.” The biologist removed his glasses and tossed them to the floor. He brought his hand to his face and dragged a palm across his eyes. Whatever was written over Dr. Gottlieb's blackboards were no more than a haze of white and green, but the biologist barely understood any of it to begin with.

“Love you, asshole...”

Newton tried to focus on the remote in his hand. The simple and visible lettering across its face was a smear of black against the gray of the metal. He lifted his thumb to hover over the dull red activation switch. The toggle need only be flipped, and he would have his answer.

Newton tried to smile through his tears but the best he could manage was a pained grimace as his lips pulled tightly back over his teeth. He lightly thumbed the toggle, careful not to push it forward just yet. His head roared with the hum of the Pons, and the doubt of his course. The creeping dread slipped back in, so recently pushed out by his sense of purpose. The blood pounded in his ears, rhythmic and sharp, utterly sickening and totally absorbing. The beat not unlike foot falls against a concrete floor.

A sharp slap rippled across his face, and the shock caused him to drop his hands, the remote clattering to the floor next to a pair of brown Oxfords. The painful sting blossomed across his cheek as Dr. Geiszler's manic sobs gave way to hysterics. The biologist couldn't process the squidcap ripped from his head, thrown to the ground with no subtlety to speak of, too busily consumed by the weight of his anguish. Wrapping his arms around himself as tightly as he could, Newton crumbled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, we have reached the crescendo...


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When you say it's gonna happen "now"  
> Well when exactly do you mean?  
> See I've already waited too long  
> And all my hope is gone"
> 
> ["How Soon Is Now?", The Smiths](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnpILIIo9ek)   
> 

Hermann woke the moment Newton stirred. It took nearly half an hour to coerce the man out of the desk chair, guiding him across the lab to the stiff sofa where the biologist sobbed for an additional half hour before passing out from exhaustion. Dr. Gottlieb hadn't escaped unscathed, overcome with emotion when he entered their shared space to find his colleague with his hand on the button. Only after Newton fell asleep did Hermann eventually give in, trying not to shake too much to let his colleague rest, soaking his own shirtsleeve in tears for a long while afterward.

Curled up on the couch Newton looked so small, his head in Hermann's lap. The physicist gently squeezed the man's shoulder, and started to gently comb his fingers through Newton's unwashed hair. Glancing up at the clock they had been asleep on the sofa for at least two hours. Hermann felt stiff, if only due to the firm cushions—for Newton's sake he will gladly be his pillow for several hours more if need be, especially after the events of the morning. It had been the most sobering moment, reminding Dr. Gottlieb of his mortality, of Dr. Geiszler's—the fleeting nature of life to be prosaic. Under his hand Newton's shoulders began to roll, emitting a warm shuddered breath onto Hermann's thigh.

“Newton?”

The man in question weakly coughed, coming to his senses, tensing upon realization of where he was, who he was with, and how he was positioned. Hermann's hand stilled, but stayed at the crown of his colleague's head. Newton's breathing began to hitch.

“I'm dead. I—I died and...” he stuttered, folding further into himself, burying his face in the tweed fabric of Hermann's slacks. “This isn't real, oh fuck I'm delusional. This isn't happening is it.” Newton bodily laughed, on the verge of hysterics that before took Hermann more than an hour to calm. The physicist resumed his petting, verbally hushing, offering no words as he was liable to begin crying again, too.

“Hermann...” Newton pitifully whined, vowels lengthened, turning the name into a plea. After a few minutes the biologist leveled out, practicing a series of long, calculated breaths. Gently Hermann pulled at the man's shoulder, encouraging Newton to push himself up onto his elbows. He groaned, rubbing at his eyes, shifting his hips to let his legs find the floor through their own dead weight. Looking down towards Hermann's lap he grimaced at the dark stain where his head had been.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” he managed, clearing his throat.

“No matter, I was never fond of them to begin with.”

“Yeah, but what if I was?” Newton visibly flinched at his own automatic response, and apologized again, cursing under his breath. He felt miserable, looked miserable as Hermann's eyes bore a hole through him while they sat in uncomfortable silence. The Pons was still powered on, its gentle hum white noise grouped with the ticking second hand of the clock and the sporadic knocking of the old ventilation unit above their heads. They seemed frozen in time—this moment all too surreal as if the gentle balance will crumble if interrupted, but Dr. Gottlieb had to say something, anything.

“Why?”

Depression was never justifiable, it just was, coming and going as it pleased. The biologist hoped his colleague understood that. To attempt an explanation of years of instability was not a road he wanted to travel today—he already crashed, hard, and he needs to be in traction.

Newton stared down at his hands. “Just, too much I guess...”

“Have you been dealing with this for a long time?”

Two months was long, twenty-plus years even longer. “Too long...” Newton sighed.

“I apologize if I sounded too harsh, but what I said this morning, I mean it, Newton.”

Dr. Geiszler barked a laugh, continuing to find it difficult to consider the physicist's words a genuine offer. “Right, because even in a good mood you couldn't stand me.” He felt a palm brace his slumped back. Newton half expected the scenario to play out as it always had, with argument, tearing the two scientists further and further apart, but from behind him the couch cushions shifted and Hermann's arms wrapped about him from behind without a word. He frowned. For a minute Newton couldn't move, still only slightly uncertain that this wasn't in fact some post-death manifestation of his own imagining, but when he felt the back of his neck dampen he turned around to look at Hermann for the first time since the hospital. The man's eyes eyes were baggy and swollen, glistening and bloodshot. It was a continuous cycle as Newton watched Hermann's chin tremble, and a new wave of tears began. They hugged, more like scrambling for one another no matter how their bodies slotted together. Tucking Newton's head under his chin Hermann pressed his lips against the man's forehead, and kept them there. Against the calm of the room a nervous hum escaped from deep in Dr. Geiszler's throat.

“Maybe... I should get back to work.”

The subtleties of affection were so many variations of gray Newton was too afraid to do anything except revert back to professionalism, to pretend that nothing happened, that everything was normal. Eyes wide he tried to look elsewhere, but without his glasses all he could manage was to focus on his colleague's lightly stubbled chin.

“You bloody idiot,” Hermann whispered onto his skin, and after a tight squeeze pulled back, his hands firm on Newton's shoulders. “Do _not_ think you're getting off this easily. We have a lot to talk about, but, for now, I might suggest a shower and lunch.” Conceding, Dr. Geiszler nodded slowly, accepting his glasses with a soft thank-you while sliding them onto his face. Hermann's sad, cautious smile was clear now as he wiped his eyes dry with his thumb.

“Come,” the physicist beckoned, easing himself off the couch with a little more effort than usual. Grabbing his cane the man held out his hand towards his partner, helping him up if not only to ensure close proximity considering the circumstances, of why they were on the couch to begin with.

They walked down the corridor with no sense of urgency, maintaining a slow pace until they reached Newton's door. The uneaten tray of food Hermann had left there yesterday was still on the floor, pushed off to the side after the morning's manic events. The biologist picked it up, following Dr. Gottlieb inside as if the other had let himself into his room a million times before, and set the tray on the only semi-clear surface in his room, the bed.

“I can wait for you here, if you like,” Hermann offered, but to no avail.

“No it—it's fine. I'll probably be a while.” Newton felt embarrassed surveying his clutter. He'd rather not make his lab partner endure much more of his chaos. Hermann carefully nodded. Newton knew he didn't quite trust him at the moment. “Listen, in an hour, how about we meet in LOCCENT? We can check in, see what we've missed since this morning.”

Hermann looked uneasy, and sighed. “Very well. Rest assured I am riding on your punctuality.” He took a step towards Newton, hesitating before giving him a pat on the shoulder. “See you in an hour, Newton,” he said, and left.

Immediately stripped of his clothes Dr. Geiszler entered his en suite, turning the knob of the modest shower stall to red. On a good day he'd get three, five minutes tops before it ran cold, and hopped in immediately. Towards the scalding side of hot he simply stood under the spray, emitting a gasp at how raw his back felt, but he was alive. He was alive and Hermann probably, most likely, maybe did not hate him. Newton was sure he was crying again, but it was different this time. Sooner than he wished the water began to run cold, forcing him to hastily bathe.

Propping the waste bin in the sink Newton took an electric razor to his face for the first time in weeks, having to wipe the mirror clean a dozen times before the job was done. It was spotty at best, but he no longer looked like a vagrant. Dropping his towel he draped it over the rail, and caught a glimpse of himself in the full-lenth mirror. He took on look at his thighs, and slammed the bathroom door shut in response. He frantically searched for the cleanest clothes he could find.

Sitting on his bed the tray beside him rattled, nearly falling off the mattress when it dipped as Newton leaned down to pull his boots on. Sliding into a black hoodie he pulled the fabric over his head, ran through an assessment of his personal effects, and left his room, tray in hand, a new bitter pill under his tongue.

People talked, pointed, but no one approached him. A paranoia set in, wondering if, somehow, everyone knew of his failed suicide attempt that morning. That was impossible. All he remained was the freakish Kaiju Groupie, and Dr. Geiszler was happy to keep it that way. Able to get lunch undisturbed, Newton doubled up on coffee—one for himself, the other a peace offering. Entering LOCCENT he felt the same series of stares but walked with purpose. Planting the drinks on the edge of the command panel, they were almost kicked off by a pair of nearby wingtips moments before the biologist found himself in a bear hug, sculpted hair glued uncomfortably to the side of his face.

“Oh my _God_ , brother,” Tendo breathed. “I don't see you for weeks and then you come out of nowhere and get dragged to the hospital wing after a goddamn Kaiju shows up what the hell is wrong with you!?” Newton barely wheezed out a laugh from between the officer's arms. “Love you too, dude.”

Holding his friend at arm's length Tendo gave him an exaggerated glower. “I could strangle you right now,” he huffed.

“Would save me a lot of grief,” Newton shrugged, acknowledging his secret with a tired, lopsided smile. Tendo had no idea, but he might have caught on.

The officer sighed. “We're in it deep, aren't we?”

“Yeah...” Newton nodded his head.

Tendo reached for one of the two steaming coffees and took a generous sip, careful not to burn his mouth. They both looked at the holo-display, silently tracking the Kaiju that paced Hong Kong Bay.

“Well, there it is,” the officer addressed—the excitement having plateaued around the tenth time the dot completed a circuit around Lantau.

“Won't be, not for much longer, anyway.” Newton's statement hadn't been meant as a come-on, enticing the officer to open his mouth in anticipation of commentary, but snapped it shut. The two resigned to stand silently in front of the command panel. In his medicated haze Newton just dizzily watched as the Kaiju continued her tour around the airport.

“Did you see it?” Tendo's question was careful, like a child asking about the bogeyman, a ghost, an otherwise fictional presence.

“Yeah,” Dr. Geiszler sighed. Whispers and heresay weren't persuasive, he at least needed another to see the thing, to take in its physical features and unique build to justify its unassuming danger. Hell, even a cell-phone picture. He had all the data, all the hard evidence without the opportunity of dissecting it, and Newton hoped that was enough.

Exhausted by the hypnotizing repetition of the radar Tendo's posture relaxed, turning towards his friend. “Hermann seemed pretty upset earlier,” he stated, referencing the events of the early morning. Newton frowned. “Yeah, I know.” He felt a twinge of... something. Doubt? Hope? Palpitations, at any rate. He didn't know what to make of his colleague's intensity in the hospital, waking up in the man's lap, but neither of them were ever able to express their true feelings without coming off as vindictive or sarcastic. Intercepting a suicide attempt will change a person.

Releasing a surprised hum, the noise Tendo made was amplified by his cup, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Well, speak of the devil,” he joked as Hermann came up the stairs balancing two drinks in his arm. The physicist paused, doe eyed and confused, and Tendo chuckled, waving his hand to encourage the man to join them.

Hermann gazed awkwardly at the drinks both Newton and Tendo held, and down at the two in his possession. The physicist passed one to a surprised Newton who comically sniffed the drink. After a careful sip its sweetness threw the biologist's face into a visible grimace. The coffee had been clearly meant for Tendo, but was remedied as Newton tempered his already half-drunk beverage with the sugary one. In the end it was still on the verge of liquid sugar, but was consumed gratefully nonetheless. Dr. Geiszler tried to hide the tick that developed under his left eye whenever he knocked the cup back, but failed spectacularly.

Tendo cleared his throat. “Well gentlemen, I'm afraid I must get back to work,” he fibbed, feeling bad for making the pair leave so soon, but their privacy seemed more pressing by the way Dr. Gottlieb nervously shifted in place. Newton shook his head. “No problem, dude. Just watch out, as soon as I walk through there get ready for her to come back this way,” the biologist stated, pointing down towards the Jaeger Bay.

Consolidating the rest of his coffee into one cup, Newton tossed the empty one into a nearby trash can at the end of the steps. In the relative quiet of the hall Hermann spoke. “I apologize for earlier, how I touched you, if it made you uncomfortable.” Brows furrowed it was difficult for Newton to detect any regret. He hoped for none.

“It's, okay... It was nice. It felt nice.” Newton took a long sip, forgetting briefly about the sugar. The noise of the Jaeger Bay ended that thought, physicist still trailing the biologist like a lost child. Newton didn't want to ask why his colleague insisted on following _him_ , to potentially emerge outside staring down the barrel of an M4. A shudder rolled through his body at the thought, but he suppressed the fear, swallowing it down with as much confidence as he swallowed the syrupy lukewarm coffee.

As expected the heli-deck was guarded by a line of familiar guards. Miraculously they parted without a word, letting the two scientists exit before resuming their stance. Dr. Geiszler's heart continued to pound in spite of the rejuvenating breeze, coming to a stop only when he reached the exact spot that he found himself—that everyone found him—earlier. The daylight set the scene so much differently it almost seemed normal as he looked down to the empty water below. Turning around Hermann firmly stood a good three meters away, his tea clutched tightly at his chest.

“She's not here, don't worry.”

The mathematician visibly exhaled at the confirmation, and dared to step a little closer.

Leaving the nervous mathematician to his own devices Newton took a seat on the concrete, dangling his legs over the edge. Lighting up a cigarette he folded his arms on the lower rail, looking out to the empty sea. Taking a hefty drag the biologist thought of the Kaiju, its borderline obsessive pacing around Lantau. Surely she should have returned? Soon, he hoped. Dr. Geiszler almost felt betrayed. He carefully prodded the blue-hued edges of his mind as stealthily as one could considering its metaphysical nature. With thoughts so hyper-focused it drew Dr. Geiszler in like a whirlpool, slowly pulled further under its gravity.

“We will have a small audience with the UN later today.”

Newton flinched at the voice. Hermann was sitting unreasonably close.

“They don't seem to be a very patient bunch,” the biologist wryly recalled. It was all the more frustrating that the Kaiju was nowhere in sight. Pressing his forehead against the rail he took a final drag before flicking the cherry into the water. The butt was placed on the concrete, but the wind took it over the edge.

“How are you feeling?” Hermann asked carefully. It only seemed a courtesy on the surface, but Newton knew better.

“Tired, but okay,” the biologist assured, squinting out to the east.

“I must admit I am rather tired myself,” the physicist sighed. He looked like more words were perched on the tip of his tongue but instead was overcome with a tremendous, infectious yawn—Newton couldn't help but chuckle at the tail end of his own. At his colleague's shy smile Newton began to kick his heels against the wall in a decent tempo, a languid whistle emanating from his pursed lips to split through the clutter of his mind. The man's head began to bob to the music in his head, chin rested on his forearms, and he began to sing.” _I am the son, and the heir... Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar. I am the son and heir, of nothing in particular..._ ” Humming for a measure Newton gave a double take towards his colleague, noticing the unabashed stare and muttered an apology, ceasing his head-bobbing and leg-kicking.

“No, that's quite alright. The song only sounded mildly familiar, though I cannot place a finger on it I'm afraid.”

“Oh, uh, The Smiths,”Newton clarified.

“Ah, yes. I remember my sister listened to them quite a bit.” At Hermann's confession it was Newton's turn to stare, pleasantly surprised. “No shit,” the man chided, bumping his shoulder playfully into Hermann's. “We should sit and just chill to some tunes sometime, your choice.” Dr. Geiszler's smile was the most genuine the physicist had ever seen since the day they first saw each other at The Academy. The first second, at least.

“At a reasonable volume, that would be lovely,” Hermann admitted, looking down at his colleague who, all of a sudden, decided to stretch out on the concrete. The mathematician sighed, and pat at his thigh. “Come on, then,” he encouraged, and Newton scoot himself to rest hid head again against his colleague's lap. The biologist looked nervous.

“Please continue,” Hermann encouraged. It took a moment for Newton to register the request, to remember where in the song his mind left off on, but he began to sing once again. It continued on for a few minutes, the song's repetitive lyrics emitting a little more huskily than originally intended, but it sounded pleasant all the same.

“ _You shut your mouth. How can you say, I go about things the wrong way? I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does..._ ” The biologist took pause, stunned from the subtle touch of Hermann's fingers along his scalp. He opened his eyes and looked up towards the gray sky.

“Hey, Hermann?” he asked. His colleague looked down at his face.

“Yes?”

“Could you go get Herc?”

The water began to stir violently beneath them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had a festive ambiguous holiday season!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "With your feet on the air and your head on the ground  
> Try this trick and spin it, yeah  
> Your head will collapse  
> If there's nothing in it  
> And you'll ask yourself
> 
> Where is my mind?"
> 
>  
> 
> ["Where is My Mind", Pixies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-gkibxWr0DY)  
> 

The Kaiju sidled up to the edge of the Shatterdome's helideck, but Dr. Geiszler didn't even have to look to confirm. It's return was more than enough to substantiate most of his theories regarding the beast's purpose. When a small audience of PPDC officials appeared the biologist barely entertained their arrival until Hansen forced him to.

“This is your chance, Geiszler,” the Marshal warned, “Tell me what I'm seeing, and how to get it off my goddamn base.”

Newton began to pace. “Do you know what a basking shark is? A whale shark?” he asked. Herc nodded, imagining the most perfectly generic whale his imagination could muster. “They filter-feed. Yes, she has claws—she's a Kaiju for Christ's sake—but first and foremost her defining feature is how large her mouth is. She has no teeth,” the biologist noted, his arm out and over the rail. “Believe me, or not, she has been just recently circling around Fukushima. Regardless of the efforts taken to reduce radioactive runoff after the nuclear meltdown the Kaiju was able to collect the toxic wastes in the surrounding waters and condense it into a fuel capable of a fusion reaction with what I am assuming a plutonium-based core inside its body. It would have been too dangerous to send her through with any fuel at all, but thanks to pollution and decades of arms testing in the Pacific she's been able to filter the necessary deuterium and tritium out of the sea water, enough to store in it reserve pouches—organs, maybe, bladders, _probably_ —within its body until needed.” During Dr. Geiszler's rant someone tentatively perched their phone over the ledge and took a photo. The Marshal, freshly out of cast, snatched the device from the technician. A stern look silenced any protest, and the younger man made to return to his post.

“Is there a Geiger counter anywhere?” Newton asked the group of techs and mechanics, palms up in waiting. Considering the Mark-I models there was a good chance there'd be one on hand, and he wasn't wrong as someone jogged back out from the Jaeger Bay to hand the scientist an ancient looking radiation detector. He dangled it over the water.

“It takes only a few kilograms of fuel to create a reaction large enough to, you know, destroy an entire town, city, island,” Dr. Geiszler informed, hoping to emphasize the Kaiju's keen position on the side of the Shatterdome itself. The Geiger counter whined and clicked, yards above the beast's imposing form. “In the interest of public safety, we gotta get her out of here.”

“How long do we have?” Herc looked lost, uncertain, riding on the scientist's expertise. Protocol usually required immediate action, to take down the target as soon as it made itself visible. Brute force was no longer an option, considering the possibility that any second now the PPDC's mainstay off the coast of Hong Kong island could very well be erased at any moment, along with everyone on base.

“I have no fucking idea...” It was not a response the Marshal wanted to hear, but it was the best Dr. Geiszler could offer. For a moment the biologist thought Herc would throttle him for his casual and lewd insubordination, but their superior placed a call to LOCCENT and initiated an immediate evacuation of all ancillary personnel from the island. Within moments a klaxon resonated from inside the building, Tendo's voice giving detailed instruction for a calm and timely egress. The exact reason to remain a mystery, to avoid anarchy.

“So, what now?” Herc demanded.

Newton's eyes widened, their size akin to saucers. This wasn't his job. There was no proper place for any decoration granting him anything close to this level of authority on his modest Academy regalia. They were more like coveralls than an actual uniform, really. He was a scientist, just a scientist.

Dr. Gottlieb stepped in, “If I may, I suggest rallying a small crew for surveillance and combat for the next few hours until we can formulate a solid attack plan.” Newton could have taken Hermann in a crushing hug right then, if not for the circumstances. “We have an audience with the UN soon, do we not? We disclose to them the situation and corroborate a course of action. Worst case scenario we lose the Shatterdome if they act hastily, but the Kaiju will go with it.”

Part of Newton wanted to ignore what he was hearing, afraid by some insane measure the beast below understood their conversation. The Kaiju emitted a low rumble, but looking down she hadn't so much as moved. He was soon frustrated that he wasn't able to offer more evidence to his theory than the thick tome he left on his desk. The biologist scrambled, he had to act fast.

“Do we have a boat? Uh—A charter boat, a pontoon, hell... even a raft I could take out?” Not surprisingly, everyone reacted as if Dr. Geiszler went crazy. It wasn't a stretch considering how the biologist had been acting in the few months following Pitfall, but Newton was still there, beneath the blood and blue haze.

“I... don't want us to lose the base. If there's any way I can lure her out I want to try. Maybe if I go out alone... she'll follow me,” he suggested. In his mind, _with_ his mind, there was only one way to find out. “I can see if she'll move out, far enough away from land that we can dispose of her out in the Pacific.”

Herc's brow furrowed, indicating a deep consideration.

“If you're as connected to them as you seem to think you are, and I'll admit the evidence is pretty damning, we can put you on a PT boat within the hour.” the Marshal began. “That will be the easy part, I'm afraid. Aside from a pilot, there's no one I'm willing to offer to crew this experiment of yours.”

He whispered in the ear of one of the uniformed guards to his right, and the woman promptly ran off toward the docks to prepare the vessel for its voyage.

“The rest is all you, Geiszler. Gather everything you need and we'll meet in the eastern conference room in half an hour to talk with the UN.” Like that, Herc and his entourage walked back inside. The alarm ceased, Officer Choi's voice no longer calmly giving orders, and Newton exhaled.

“I can't let you do this, Newton,” Hermann urged in their newfound privacy. “I know that you know that this is _far_ from safe.”

Dr. Geiszler wanted nothing more than to walk inside, through the bay, past the cafeteria, down the corridor to his room and promptly fall asleep for the next decade, but reality was far from so kind.

“I know, I know,” he sighed.

“ _Do_ you?” The physicist didn't mean to sound so unforgiving, but he was upset. “I'm coming with you then,” Hermann decided, and began to walk inside, his pace frustratingly quickened.

It took a moment for the other K-scientist to register his colleague's self-invitation, and nearly screamed. “You can't just do that!” Newton yelled, catching up.

“Now you know how I feel,” Dr. Gottlieb grumbled, ignoring how the biologist nearly tossed the Geiger counter onto a cluttered cart as they walked past.

“Dude, just...” Newton raised his fist to his forehead, tempted to tear at every follicle of his overgrown hair, but dropped his hand after raking it along his head instead. At least his plan wasn't immediately dismissed as borderline insane. Up until this point the idea that Newton maintained a latent communique was laughable, his human-Kaiju drift the first of its kind and highly undocumented by anyone other than the Kaiju Groupie himself. Whether or not the biologist could actually influence the beast was a complete crap-shoot, but he had to give it a try. Of course it was dangerous, if only for the risk of being within close range of the Kaiju itself, and Newton couldn't let Hermann put himself at risk just to spite him as some sort of twisted revenge for that morning.

The pair silently walked towards the research wing, down the hall toward their lab.

“Hermann...” he sighed. “I know I fucked up. Just, let me fix this, okay?” Newton was close to losing himself again. The morning, the return of the Kaiju, all of it weighing so heavily alongside the omnipresent blue taint in his thoughts. “I need you to let me do this alone. Well, as alone as I can be with a random grunt at the helm, but alone. If anything were to happen, I can't have both of us gone in the same instant.” The argument was based in logic, but Hermann could feel the implication of the statement was a bit deeper than just resource protection. Still, he had to argue his point.

“It's a little difficult to trust you when I'm convinced that you are on a fast track to killing yourself. You give me little proof to persuade me otherwise.” Hermann stated, but remained before the threshold to the lab, as Newton moved to his work area. The biologist shuffled through the mountainous report he had place on his desk before his failed drift attempt. Without a word, he turned and made to exit the lab, but found Hermann blocking his path. “Let me care about you, Newton. Let me help,” the physicist stated, and moved to the side. Dr. Geiszler didn't immediately comprehend his colleague's request, he had spent the better part of the morning trying to repress what occurred between them. It was hard to believe that the biologist didn't have to face the problem alone anymore, let alone that Hermann may have fallen into the role of his closest friend.

Hermann cracked a smile. “So, are you just going to stand there, or are you ready to save the world?”

Dr. Geiszler cracked a genuine smile for the first time that day.

Their meeting with the UN went about as well as any of them could have hoped. Tendo recounted the evidence in the different waveform patterns. Newton gave a watered-down but severe explanation to the Kaiju's internal fusion mechanism, and Hermann backed their claims with convoluted science-talk garnished by his trademarked stern demeanor and British accent. The wall of talking heads seemed unmoved, but when Herc shared with them a photo of the Shatterdome's ominous barnacle—stolen from the phone of the chastised technician—it sealed the deal. The PPDC had only hours until the USS Ronald Reagan left Yokosuka with a full crew at the insistence of the US Navy. This gave them enough time to lure the Kaiju out to sea before being blown to Hell and, God willing, not back.

“Assholes.” The Marshal spared no breath before expressing his discontent once the conference call had ended. No one ever enjoyed operating under their orders, especially those with actual military, scientific, and analytic experience, qualities none of the men on screen had. For a moment the room joked of cat herding and relished in their own bitter optimism. Leaders of the Free World or no, the PPDC was going to handle this their own way.

Courtesy of the Chinese Coast Guard a small patrol boat was already moored and ready to deploy the moment Newton boarded. The biologist wasn't entirely thrilled with being babysat by an Ensign. “I know how to pilot a boat!” he spat, but seeing the look of relief upon Hermann's face made Newton concede rather quickly. The physicist wouldn't have stayed on land otherwise. It was a much better scenario than taking a rusty gillnetter out into the ocean in any case, and so with an air of false confidence Dr. Geiszler was sent off with a series of curt nods, handshakes, and half-hugs.

It all happened so fast. By the time the Shatterdome was the size of his fist on the horizon Newton's heart skipped a beat. At 80 knots it would take them almost six hours at full speed to even see Guam, but traveling east they at least wanted to pass Taiwan, far enough from the Philippine Islands to avoid any chance of civilian casualty. Not having to pilot the vessel himself provided the biologist the time to reach out to the Kaiju. On the outside it looked like meditation; at worst a case of vertigo as he sat on the deck, eyes closed, body swaying with each wave the craft breached. Perhaps he _was_ seasick; Dr. Geiszler began to feel dizzy. Against his better judgment Newton fished his pack from his coat pocket and shielded himself from the wind against the cabin.

The sky was so much clearer out to sea. The further from Hong Kong they traveled the biologist couldn't help but get lost in the early colors of sunset—the rusty hue of the clouds to the west a sight he hadn't seen since Sydney. The bleak bubble of Hong Kong had locked him into his depression so forcefully Newton had lost sight of the real world, but he could see it then. As the boat entered Kaohsiung, their first pit-stop, Dr. Geiszler stepped into the cabin and flashed a dopey smile to the Ensign, who bummed a cigarette from his pack and stepped to the starboard railing to relieve himself.

“We've called into port, sir, if you would like to communicate with the Shatterdome.” The Ensign called over his shoulder, as Dr. Geiszler took his place at the helm. Scanning for the correct channel, it took only moments for a familiar voice to resonate through the cabin.

“Reach Taiwan already, my man?”

“Yup, in record time, too!”

Tendo laughed over the speaker. “You sound happy,” he noted, and Newton could hear the man's cocky smile through his voice alone. “I can actually see the stars, dude. Be sure to tell Hermann, I bet he's jealous.” In the background said physicist could be heard, his tone as sour as always, though Newton wasn't able to decipher what exactly it was he had said. “He heard, but he's too busy chewing his nails to shreds to care, I think.” This time Hermann could be heard telling Tendo rather colorfully to shut his mouth. Newton laughed into the receiver.

“Well, not too much longer. Just need to lure the Kaiju out more and we can safely go through with the plan,” Newton sighed, the opportunity to study the Kaiju and confirm his theories on its purpose were slipping away by the nautical mile. Noticing a lack of response, he looked to the LED on the radio, and confirmed it was still operational. Quizzically, he called out to the officer.

“Tendo?”

“Uh, that's the problem. The Kaiju, it's still here.”

Newton swore to himself, but the curse transmitted all the same over the VHF radio. His mind raced. This was supposed to work—he had a connection to the beast, did he not? She was supposed to follow him. Mentally they were one in the same for the past few months. Dr. Geiszler swallowed.

“We gotta turn back, we gotta get her off the island,” the biologist nervously mumbled. From over the speakers he could hear the collective chatter from within LOCCENT. For a moment Tendo fumbled with the receiver before the Marshal started talking.

“Doctor, make your way back toward the Shatterdome. We are formulating a new plan to enact as soon as possible. We will contact you with the details when we have finalized a new course of action.”

Before Newton could formulate a response the communication was cut. Having overheard their orders the Ensign re-entered the cabin. Sharply cutting the wheel, the boat began to sail away from Kaohsiung City, back across the northern tip of the South China Sea. Regardless of the darkening sky and the visible stars above Newton once again felt the heavy presence of failure. Playing up his neural link to the Anteverse, he had planted in the minds of the PPDC a false hope in an ability even he would never fully understand.

Stepping out into the open air Newton sank down onto the deck, and closed his eyes as tightly as he could. The wind raced past, faster and faster as the craft picked up speed until the scientist felt like he was floating, coursing through space. Every thought jumbled together into abstract flashes. Subtle clamor filled his ears, transcendent in its own form. Having shaved that morning the blood coursed uninhibited to pool on his lips, dripping down his chin. If there was any time to give it his all, it was now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wuh-oh...


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "They came from ten thousand feet, on a possibility street  
> It was the law of the land, turned castles into the sand  
> When it's only kingdoms a turning, when I've got to find out some learning  
> Even the people so small, wanna see the tyrant a fall, oh yeah  
> You could be, what you see, anytime, this time  
> Could it be, what you see, you could be, in time."
> 
>  
> 
> ["10,000 Feet", Wolfmother](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZH-bY2MC7M)  
> 

LOCCENT was packed. A majority of the Shatterdome's contract employees had been safely evacuated hours earlier. All that remained were a handful of mechanics, J-techs, military personnel, high-ranking officials, and outside, a single Kaiju. The room was unusually quiet for the crowd gathered. It was definitely over capacity, as everyone struggled to see what was happening during the briefing.

In the three hours it took for Dr. Geiszler to reach Taiwan the beast hadn't so much as budged, its claws still firmly embedded in the side of the island's embankment. Dumbfounded, people paced, trying to pull a solution out of thin air as the clock blissfully ticked on. Since ending the call with Dr. Geiszler the Marshal found himself staring down into the bay, trying to block out the surrounding chatter. He was only trying to do what everyone else was doing: not panic.

“Sir?” Mako had sneaked up on him, Raleigh and Dr. Lightcap close behind. Herc uncrossed his arms, intrigued, and turned to face the three. “We have been talking, and, we might have a plan.”

The room somehow quieted further, as the techs leaned in from their stations.

The girl's eyes were bright and hopeful, but cautious. “Dr. Lightcap recounted how years ago Sensei was the first to successfully use Pons technology to control a Jaeger.”

The blonde J-tech nodded, and took a step forward to recount the experience firsthand. “In the early stages of the Jaeger Program Jasper and I had only enough resources to construct a single arm, but Stacker was able to control it. Granted, he was only able to move its fingers, but at the time it was a major breakthrough.” Herc rolled his hand in encouragement. “You do not need a complete unit to pilot one,” Caitlin concluded.

“We have what we need, Marshal,” Raleigh pointed out, down across the bay where the patchwork Jaeger stood. The Marshal let his eyes trail up and down the mech, each part and limb a different color than the one next to it.

“It's unfinished, the legs have yet to be programmed,” Herc began to argue, but was cut off by an excitable Mako. “So long as the arms and the Conn-Pod are connected we don't need legs! We don't need to go far. We just need to get it out and onto the deck. To the Kaiju.” It was moments like these she revealed herself to be Stacker's daughter, adopted or not.

“So long as the missing parts aren't the result of physical trauma there is no threat to the pilots,” Caitlin stated with a confident smile. Their exact plan hadn't yet been revealed to the Marhsal, but the trio's enthusiasm was refreshing, infectious. They converged upon the Control Panel.

“Gottlieb, have you finished programming the new Jaeger's Drift sequence?”

Hermann looked nervously towards his superior, his fingers leaving his mouth to be wiped covertly on his jumper. “Yes, sir. There are some input controls I have yet to finalize regarding the lower limbs but I have pieced together the code from each individual Jaeger's OS to communicate seamlessly as one unit.”

The Marshal seemed pleased, turning his attention to Tendo. “And you, will you be able to establish a comm-link to launch this thing?” The officer saluted in response. “Very good,” Herc stated rather jovially, and turned to face the gathered collage of rank.

“Every one of you that has elected to stay will find a station in LOCCENT or in the Jaeger Bay; you know where you belong. Clear the floor of all machinery to allow a path to the heli-deck and open the wall.” Around them everyone made quick work of manning their stations, jogging down the steps.

“We're deploying tonight.” No sooner than Hansen finished speaking, did a cacophony of cheers erupt around them. “Nothing like eleventh-hour desperation to rally the troops,” their superior commented with a chuckle. He clapped his hand on Tendo's shoulder, and turned his attention back to the two pilots. “So, you name her?”

“Maybe?” Mako covered her small smile and looked up towards Raleigh. The pair couldn't resist exchanging names over sleepless nights, whispering ideas back and fourth to laugh at the worst and write the best on a torn piece from an old legal pad. That folded piece of yellow paper had been in Raleigh's pocket for the last two months, but he didn't need to take it out to recite the name they both agreed upon.

“We, uh, were thinking Exquisite Corpse.”

“He had to explain to me what it means, but I think it's rather beautiful,” Mako admitted with a bob of her head.

Tendo leaned back in his chair. “Beautiful and badass. Good name, kiddos,” he said, lightly punching each pilot's arms simultaneously. Herc's own hum of approval solidified their choice.

“So, what's the plan with Exquisite Corpse?”

For the next half hour Mako, Raleigh, and Caitlin shared and modified their plan with the individual expertise of Herc, Tendo, and Hermann. On the outside, physically removing the Kaiju from the side of the Shatterdome seemed impossible and extraordinarily dangerous. The idea of attaching cables around the beast and pulling it free was nixed even before Newton's failed attempt at having it follow him like some duckling after its mother. The danger was clear, and a disturbance would risk an explosive response. It had to be removed as quickly as possible.

“Like a bandaid,” Tendo chimed, but immediately furrowed his brow. “But, wouldn't it explode once you grab it?” The group lulled into contemplative silence. Hermann raised a tentative finger.

“A normal hydrogen bomb's reaction takes just billionths of a second, but of course it's dependent upon a series of reactions within the mechanism itself. I cannot vouch for how exactly a fusion reaction would work within a biological entity—it might be as fast, it might take significantly longer... It all depends on how fast whatever is inside of it gets up to temperature,” Dr. Gottlieb ruminated, perched at the edge of the desk, passing his cane between his hands. “Whether or not the reaction is triggered at will, percussive force won't necessarily cause an explosion.”

Dr. Lightcap took an authoritative step forward. “That's true, back in the 60's a plane with a thermonuclear payload crashed in North Carolina and none of the three bombs detonated after falling thousands of feet into the ground,” she added.

“I suppose that's the best deposition we have,” Herc decided. “Confirm with Geiszler, get his opinion on the matter and in the meantime we'll set the plan in motion.”

With a nod Officer Choi reconnected to the most recent channel on their ancient supplemental tech. Two tries and a short wait later Newton's harried voice broadcast through the immediate vicinity of Tendo's station.

“Geiszler,” confirmed the transmission.

“Jesus, brother, don't scare me like that.”

“Sorry, was on the deck. We're maybe halfway back? Almost, anyway. What's up? Anything change?” the biologist frantically questioned, desperate for an update.

“No, no, no... Everything is painfully the same. Though, we do have a question for you,” Tendo rode on the radio's crackled silence.

“Yeah, anything, what do you need to know?” the biologist breathlessly asked.

“Well, we have a new plan. We want to know if—hell, Newt, we plan to chuck the thing into the ocean.” A tinny hiccup emitted from the speaker. “Wait, what? How?” Tendo couldn't help but stifle a laugh, anticipating his friend's reaction to what he was about to say. “Yup, so... Say a Jaeger were to basically grab the Kaiju, tear it off the wall and toss it like a baseball out into the South China Sea?” There was an even longer pause coming from the other side, unsettling the whole of LOCCENT until a bark of maniacal laughter screeched through the room.

“Dude! That's fucking crazy, man. Like, anime shit,” Newton laughed.

“But will it work?” Tendo pressed. That was the entire reason for calling in to the small boat in the first place, not for the biologist's childlike commentary.

“Well,” the transmission began, stretched out and wavered. “I have no guarantees, but all I can suggest is approach it slowly, and at the last possible second grab it and throw it. I mean, it doesn't really need to be MLB pitcher level arm strength but the size of the Jaeger alone should at least be able to toss it a mile or two no problem. Wait...” The biologist took pause. “What Jaeger?”

“Exquisite Corpse, Mako and Raleigh's new acquisition as of, oh, an hour ago?”

“You mean the—”

“Yup, the patchwork beaut in the bay right now.” Tendo's smug but proud smile could be heard miles away. Newton's triumphant curse could be heard over the same distance, considering how loud he yelled into the microphone.

“Wow, okay, this is serious. Uh, I can't say whether or not the detonation is conscious or not, but, like I said, as soon as it's within your grasp, get rid of it as fast as you can, alright?” Newton couldn't know if either pilot had been present, but Mako and Raleigh nodded sternly, taking the harsh recommendation to heart. They had only one chance, and it had to be perfect. Tendo bid their collective thanks, and after Dr. Geiszler's best wishes the transmission died.

The reality of the situation took a moment to sink in but after the PPDC's resident K-biologist's blessing; the Shatterdome whirled into a frenzy. Mako and Raleigh left, on their way to board the Conn-Pod and don their squid-caps in anticipation of their imminent launch. The Marshal took a solid stance at the window overlooking the floor below, the secondary doors open to full capacity just large enough to allow a single Jaeger to exit head-first. Tendo looked up towards Hermann, the physicist's right hand finding its place back at his mouth to gnaw at whatever remained of his well-chewed nails.

“Talk to me, Hermann,” he encouraged, somehow splitting his attention equitably between his duties and one single anxiety-ridden physicist.

“I'm fine,” Hermann attempted to reassure, but failed spectacularly when his voice hitched the second word he delivered. Tendo sighed. “We're in more danger than he is, now,” he comforted, but the reality of his words spiked his own apprehension. What they were about to embark upon was the least safe of their options and for a moment the officer was half-tempted to turn tail and run, to escape Mission Control and flee off the island and to the relative safety of the city, to Allison, to their child.

“Fortune favors the brave,” Hermann quietly recounted, barely loud enough to be heard through the ambient noise of the room. Deep within his mind he repeated Newton's words, superstitiously reciting them for luck. If they had Drift with a Kaiju together, they could certainly pull this off.

“Amen, brother,” Tendo responded, the beads of his rosary clacking against each other as it left his reverent grasp. The officer donned his headset, and waited for the pilots to take their position. Dr. Gottlieb sat next to him, having momentarily given up on worrying his hands to focus on the holo-display. The comm-link software booted flawlessly, pending Mako and Raleigh's Drift sequence to initiate. Too suddenly for Tendo's nerves their voices jolted the man from his seat.

“All settled in,” Raleigh said, followed by a chirruped “hai!” from Mako.

“Alright, kiddos, just gimme a sec to make sure we're good to go,” Tendo replied, and over the intercom sent out a final warning to clear the bay. A nod of confirmation from the Marshal watching from the window and they were cleared for take-off. Tendo took a deep breath.

“You ready?” the officer searched, but the excitability in both pilot's whooped responses proved their preparedness. It was now or never.

“Okay, initiating Drift in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1!”

Mako and Raleigh leaned their bodies back in sync, the virtually nonexistant legs of Exquisite Corpse giving in under them. The Jaeger's body slid down the launching mechanism, a controlled descent to cause the least damage to the floor and the mech itself. Landing in a kneeling position dust rose around them, the initial whine of metal joints and the thunderous boom of the weight impacting with steel and concrete echoed off the walls of the Shatterdome, giving in to an eerie silence.

“We're okay!”

Mako's voice rang through Mission Control, bright and reassuring. Their next move was to fold over, lowering the Jaeger's chest onto the floor gently. Grabbing into the launch mechanism behind them, Exquisite Corpse's left arm slowly levered their mass forward to be braced on its right forearm. From a safe distance everyone watched in awe, unable to breathe as Mako and Raleigh maneuvered with the utmost care, sliding on their forearms until the Jaeger lay flush with the floor. The biggest challenge was executed with minimal damage to the launch pad itself, the Jaeger in no worse shape than it had been after assembly.

“Okay,” Raleigh began, a momentary self-affirmation as he and his co-pilot examined the floor through the cockpit. “We're going to have to move ninety-degrees, to get ourselves a straight path out to the heli-deck. It's probably going to get a little loud,” he warned. Giving a minute for the Shatterdome to collectively cover their ears, Raleigh then reached out with the right arm and pushed sideways. Steel screamed against concrete as Exquisite Corpse was pushed left, bit by bit, until their head faced the view of the sea. The Jaeger's legs lay akimbo behind them, but moving forward in a dead-man's crawl they dragged behind, straightening out in time to move unhindered through the open wall. The two pilots counted out a rhythm as they alternated arms. They didn't need to in the Drift, thinking as one, but the vocalization subconsciously helped both them and everyone listening in Mission Control. They took pause when the Jaeger lay half out onto the heli-deck.

There was no time for hesitation. In the conn-pod Mako and Raleigh looked towards each other, bracing for the final sprint, the last fifty yards across the deck. They yelled in tandem, counting one-two at a rapid pace as Exquisite Corpse crawled, digging its elbows against the asphalt. Sparks flew as paint eroded, giving way to buffed steel as they pulled themselves closer and closer. Bright orange cones marked the portion of the wall where the Kaiju perched, and were knocked away when Mako reached out and gripped the edge. Pulling the Jaeger forward to peer down at the bay, Raleigh caught his first glimpse of the beast through the cockpit, and not a second later dug the metal fingers of the mech's right hand into the surrounding concrete, pulling out a sizable chunk and the Kaiju with it. In the conn-pod he reared his arm back, Mako pushing their torso upwards with her left. Harking back to his childhood, of little league, of playing catch with Yancy, Raleigh arced his arm forward, and released his hand.

The seconds following were surreal, time slowing down to watch the bioluminescent mass slowly fade off into the distance, up over the horizon, and back down again. Miles away it met the water with a small splash, barely visible in the dark expanse.

Over the comm-link cheers erupted through Mako and Raleigh's ears, the pair laughing at the pain the sound caused. Lifting Exquisite Corpse up they pushed the mech back just enough to lie it down on the deck. Their ears hurt, their arms hurt, their mouths hurt from smiling, but, the Kaiju was gone. They did it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't like a good game of catch?


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Straight line  
> Feel it burst liver and lung  
> Long and strong  
> 'Til she spills her black blood  
> Center down  
> Vast the head body and tail  
> Shatter life  
> Physeter catodon  
> Culture vulture  
> Elephant graveyard  
> Culture vulture  
> Engage monster  
> Wreaking vengeance  
> Assault with all martial rage  
> Sail on."
> 
>  
> 
> ["Iron Tusk," Mastodon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3HVLyI-t3E)  
> 

Inside the cabin the radio hissed to life, jolting Newton from his position on the deck. Scrambling to stand his head swam, the blood in his brain refusing to catch up with the rest of his body's vertical trajectory. The pilot stared blankly at him as he stumbled in, but his vision was blurred just enough to ignore his curious glance.

“Newt, Newt!” the transmission screamed. Picking up the receiver Dr. Geiszler held it near his mouth. “Yeah?” he croaked. Feeling the blood on his lip he raked the back of his hand over his mouth, undoubtedly making an even more suspicious mess of his face.

“They did it! The Kaiju's gone!” Tendo's voice rose just slightly above the surrounding clamor of an undoubtedly celebratory Shatterdome. Newton could have guessed as much—he _felt_ something—but he wasn't about to spoil the excitement. He exhaled long and steady, his disappointment and confusion disguised as relief and exhaustion. Newton had expected a larger phenomenon from the Kaiju's death. Perhaps that was a good thing, as he still couldn't decide whether his migraine was vertigo, or the echoes of the Kaiju's traumatic death by proxy.

“Good job, guys, I expect to find you all hammered by the time I get back,” the biologist quipped, lips twisted into a red-tinted smirk. Tendo laughed. It was a nice sound to hear out at sea, and soon he would join in with the rest of them. “Anyway, we're not too far out, in a little less than two hours we'll be on your doorstep.”

“Good, brother, good. I'll be sure to have a hug and a beer ready for you as soon as you get your ass back. See you in a bit, Newt,” the officer promised, and after trading goodbyes, the line went silent.

Sniffling, Newton rubbed at his face furiously, earning an even more uneasy stare from the Ensign. “Sorry, must be the seawater or something,” the biologist laughed through his lie, and began to search the cabin. Finding a battered first aid kit he unhooked it from the wall and tore open a wet wipe, blindly cleaning his face the best he could. Stepping back outside the smell of petrol overwhelmed his senses. The numerous gas canisters they picked up in Kaohsiung were evidently not airtight and likely not water tight. The fumes aggravated his already terrible headache, and threatened to dim Newton's delicately raised spirits. However, above it all, he smiled, looking up at the stars.

Lighting a cigarette Dr. Geiszler leaned off the stern, watching the trail of white the boat left in their wake. They were still a ways away from shore, but the closer they got the choppier the waves became. It was disconcerting, but the lack of order and discernible pattern in the crests was equally comforting. Newton closed his eyes and felt his body lilt up and down as the ship drove onward. It had been a long time since he experienced this, having spent summers fishing with Onkel too many years ago to count. The excursions hadn't been fancy, just a simple motorboat they rented to take out on the lake behind the house. As a child feeling the wind whip past him as Illia sped them across the water at full speed was intense beyond adolescent measure. They almost crashed once, catching a wake that nearly toppled them overboard. They cruised to a stop at the shore where they made a pact over cheese sandwiches to never speak a word of it to the old man at the rental shack, hiding behind knowing grins at sunset. They caught nothing that day, but the memory was enough of a prize.

Newton dropped the butt to be carried off by the wind, lost to rushing waters. His head thrummed painfully—the day had been long, and finally caught up to him. He stretched his arms above his head, grunting in satisfaction when his back popped somewhere between the thoracic and lumbar vertebrae. The craft suddenly caught a large wave, sending Newton off-balance, throwing his arms down to grab at the back of the boat. Another wave reeled the boat so violently he nearly fell overboard.

“ _Diu!_ ”

Newton took no heed of the curse as he ran into the cabin. The boat cut sharply to port, and any unsecured supplies in the cabin toppled to the deck. The movement also sent the unsecured biologist into the door jamb shoulder-first. With a firm hand the man at the helm pointed out into the water, to a faint blue glow ghosting just under the murk. Newton hissed, rubbing at his upper arm. He could have guessed, should have known she wasn't dead but ignored his instinct, falling into the same pit of doubt everyone else thrust him into. The boat veered sharply again, but the Ensign's hands were no longer on the wheel.

Having cut the engines, the serviceman ran to the bow, rifle slung over his shoulder. It was admirable, but fruitless, as each bullet blindly met the water in a rough, twenty-foot radius. The bioluminescence faded away, the Kaiju's position fell into mystery—the stillness that followed a harbinger for the inevitable two-on-one confrontation Newton subconsciously predicted. The hull was hit from the side moments later, an alien anger clouding the biologist's mind. She was hurt, and not without reason, unhappy. Intent on expressing her discontent; the beast rammed against the hull several times more in quick succession. The starboard side was met with such force that the rail began to fold inward, forming a perfect perch for the Kaiju to lay its head. Under its weight, the boat leaned at a harsh angle, forcing water onto the deck.

“Newt!”

The biologist heard Tendo's static cry from the cabin, but could do nothing about it. The officer continued to call his name, and a single gunshot rang out into the otherwise unearthly silence. The Kaiju's mouth lay open, ominous and large enough to swallow a man whole. A second shot, and a bullet coursed through the membrane of the beast's cheek, to fly out unhindered through the opposite side. The boat bounced, but the Kaiju seemed otherwise unfazed.

“Stop! Stop wasting your goddamn bullets can't you see it's not doing anything?” Dr. Geiszler screamed, his focus wholly on the gaping maw not twenty feet away. The scientist thought and searched and scrambled and analyzed the situation they found themselves in. He was the Kaiju expert, for years providing the Rangers with strategic weak-points found from the safety of a remote stream in the comfort of the Shatterdome's reinforced walls. Newton did his job well. Artifacted footage was no match for his ability to dissect their anatomy at a glance. This should have been no different, even allowing for the fact that they were minutes from death.

When the anxious ringing in his ears subsided, Dr. Geiszler took in the scene. He stood opposite the Kaiju, the ensign still beside him. The deck looked a mess. Littered with ropes and buoys, the glistening multi-colored sheen of fuel reflected off the wet surface. Inspiration sparked behind Newton's eyes, and he yelled across the deck.

“Y'ever seen Jaws?” he asked, garnering a careful, but confused nod. His vision guided the ensign to a rack adjacent to the cabin. “Good, good...” the biologist mumbled to himself. His grip was getting lax, his hands cramping from white-knuckling the rail. “Grab one of those tanks, come around the cabin, I need help. Be sure to grab a flare gun while you're at it!” he yelled, and began to shimmy his way left. Eyeing the Kaiju as it gurgled angrily, occasionally shifting itself further and further onto the deck, he kept as far from its head as railing would allow. The boat was lilting even more, water creeping upwards, rendering the deck dangerously slick.

Newton grabbed a full gas can, having to reach and pull it towards him with his foot. Can in hand, he scrambled back up the slope of the deck to face the Kaiju, now a scant two yards away. Balling a length of rope around the can, he hooked his knee around the rail to free both hands. Glancing to his side he saw the Ensign drag an oxygen tank from a rack. With precision, the man rolled the heavy object, dragging it towards Newton's position. The biologist nodded at the mouth in front of them. He tucked the the flare gun under his arm, and opened the release valve atop the tank. With a hiss, the oxygen within began to flow outward. Newton slapped the lid of the fuel can open as well, the pressed metal clattered down the slope before plopping into the water. With all pieces of the plan in order, action was the only step left take.

On the count of three Dr. Geiszler shouted, tossing the payload down the Kaiju's throat, the oxygen tank quick to follow, the mass causing the beast to thrash and slip back. Before it could close its mouth Newton stretched his arm out, and pulled the trigger of the flare gun at point-blank range. Within seconds the Kaiju was consumed by the growing inferno inside its throat. The pained beast left the deck entirely, tossing the vessel back to a dizzying balance in its absence.

Surrounded by fire, the biologist and the ensign stared at the abused area where the Kaiju had lain. Not a moment later a spectacular geyser broke through the waves, close enough to rock them, raining down enough water to extinguish most of the deck's blaze. Newton screamed wordlessly at the Ensign, his right hand skyward, the victory not lost upon either of them, but their celebration was premature. Not a moment had passed before a secondary explosion, insurmountably larger than the first one, raised a dome of water beneath the boat, before bursting into a plume that reached upward, almost mimicking Newton's own display a heartbeat prior. The boat followed the dome's rise, and the sheer pressure of the plume knocked the boat out of the water completely, ejecting everyone and nearly everything upon it.

Newton wasn't able to witness the outcome of the Kaiju's detonation, finding himself deep in the brackish water, but he felt it this time, _really_ felt it. Struggling to hold his breath, he followed the bubbles to the surface. Looking around him the world was a complete blur, dark and wet and eerily silent. Bringing his hands to his face he felt his glasses matted in his hair, and went about the painful task of untangling them.

Treading the soberingly frigid water Newton battled the rising bile in his throat, coughing uncontrollably as he surveyed the surrounding flotsam. Hugging a stray hunk of something his cheek met its damp hard surface, a small savior in a very large ocean. After a few long minutes the biologist finally raised his head, scanning the blackness around him.

The boat was some fifty feet away and, miraculously right-side-up. A faint beacon in the distance, it would have been completely undetectable if not for the operational floodlight. For a minute he bobbed in the calming water, taking in the reality of what just happened, if it had even happened at all. Dr. Geiszler's nervous laughter turned to sobs, his adrenaline stores completely spent. He had never been so exhausted in his entire life, so sore and battered and bruised. Part of him didn't believe what had happened, but a corner of his mind felt woefully silent now, all that remained was the same distant buzz he gained back in January. For all he knew that could be a concussion. Collecting himself, Newton began to swim towards the boat, pushing away that part of his mind that knew most sharks were nocturnal.

A smoky odor wafted through the air around the vessel, Dr. Geiszler finding its surface haphazardly charred after he struggled to climb aboard. Collapsing on the deck he closed his eyes, savoring the feel of solidity under his body. He heard a faint cough. Leaning against the inside of the cabin was the Ensign, his left hand cradled limply in his lap. Newton pushed himself up into a sitting position, searching his frazzled brain for the correct words, but Cantonese escaped him completely in his haze. He settled for English.

“Y'alright?”

The uniformed man nodded tiredly at the slurred words, remiss to his visibly broken arm. Newton mirrored his action, and then leaned forward to cradle his throbbing head. His palm came back bloodied, having felt a sizable gash somewhere along his scalp. They had to get back, he thought.

“We should probably get moving.” Newton verbalized his thought before pausing to cough, his throat dry from the brine. Standing was a slow process, still lightheaded from concussive forces and near drowning, Newton pushed himself to his feet. Passing the man on the deck Newton laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, exchanging with him a faint smile before entering the cabin. The radio was either broken or there was no response from the Shatterdome—or any other channels, for that matter. The radio was broken.

“Does it still run?” Newton asked, the Ensign shrugged as he entered the cabin, cradling his arm.

“I haven't tried,” the man admitted through his heavy accent, and turned the key. It struggled, but the engine turned over after a few sputtered attempts. Small miracles.

On course once again for the Shatterdome, time was of no real import. The first aid kit on the wall had been retrieved again, Dr. Geiszler making delicate work to patch up the man at the wheel. There had been no more than bandages, antiseptic, and a waterproof container of matches in the small bag. Newton made quick work of creating a makeshift sling for the Ensign's arm. The biologist's own head, however, was met with a balled mess of gauze secured into place by nothing other than the pressure of his own hand. The actual medical doctors back at the Dome could deal with that problem when they got there.

Limping out Newton leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit alone on the deck. Fishing his pack out of his pocket, the biologist discovered it to be completely waterlogged; every single cigarette soaked through rendering them useless. With a hollow laugh, the pack was sent over the railing to float on the inky waves. Sensing his frustration the Ensign left the helm for the deck, and offered him a metal case, flipped open to reveal a small array of dry and pristine rollies. Newtons heart fluttered, his urges unbridled, eliciting a breathless thanks as he took one for himself. A match from the first aid kit caught on the first strike, and the two men sat quietly as smoke billowed off the stern.

The boat coasted along at a comparatively smooth pace, paranoia driving the two men to the expectancy of some, any sign of trouble. Every reflected shimmer, every errant wave flaring their doubt acutely but their keen sense of observation only offered them the ability to stay awake for the next forty-five minutes until the Shatterdome came into view over the horizon. With a collective sigh of relief the boat sputtered on, carrying them the last mile home.

The heli-deck was never meant for small watercraft as its name suggested. A modest ladder emerged from the water, continuing upward until it curled up and over the asphalt. Newton helped moor the craft, a difficult task finding most of the rope either burned or missing altogether, but he and the Ensign managed. Somehow their return went unnoticed for a time, trying to solve how to get someone with a broken arm up fifteen feet of slick and rusted metal.

“Hey!” Newton cried up the wall. Whether or not someone was above to hear it was anyone's guess, but moments later a small crew of guards poked their heads over the ledge.

“We—We need help, he's got a broken arm!” the biologist plead, pointing towards the Ensign pacing on the deck. Taking the extra measure to ensure the injured had been securely strapped in; the man was aided in climbing the ladder with the use of a harness. The biologist felt it necessary the ensign be taken care of first—without him neither would find themselves in their individual predicaments. Gasping his thanks Newton's fortitude began to wane, but his was brought around by the sight of a familiar figure in the distance jogging towards the end of the deck.

“Newt!”

Unable to brace himself Newton resolved to be nearly tackled off balance by the officer's running hug. Kept upright the biologist leaned heavily into Tendo's tight embrace, his face buried in a limp red bowtie.

“Hey, dude,” he breathed, smiling, absolutely exhausted.

“God, we tried to tell you that the Kaiju was still alive. I caught its signature shortly after we disposed of it, right near your boat, but we didn't hear back from you guys,” Tendo breathed. Newton could only mumble into the man's hair in his current state. “Yeah, I heard my name but we, you know, we kind of...” Newton yawned, flinching when he remembered the gash on his scalp. The LOCCENT officer pulled back.

“Wait, you _did_ see it? You mean you actually...”

“Yep. Remember Jaws? Let's just say I was Brody, and the Kaiju, Bruce,” Dr. Geiszler smirked, pulling the bloodied gauze pad away from his head to reposition it.

“The surly looking guy?” Tendo laughed.

“No, no, no, the... Look, I—“ Newton faltered, faint from blood loss, the bandage thoroughly soaked through, staining his hands. Officer Choi cursed, guiding the K-scientist across the deck and into the bay. It was almost sunrise, fair as tradition dictated considering Operation Pitfall. This time Newton offered no objection being led towards the hospital, having the strength to ask only one more question before they reached the sterilized white floor of the wing he absolutely hated.

“Where's Hermann?”

“He fell asleep a while ago, snoring in my chair. I sent him back to his room before he even knew the Kaiju's signature was still present,” Tendo relayed. “Want me to go get him?”

“Fuck no, let him sleep...” Newton was relieved. He'd been the cause of too many sleepless nights in Hermann's life as of late. “Let him rest, think everything went off without a hitch for one night,” the biologist plead. Handed off to one of the few nurses that hadn't bailed, Newton waved the officer away. Tendo nodded. Checking his watch it was approaching 6am.

“Well, I'm off to bed myself, then, now that you're in capable hands. I'll catch you tomorrow to get all the juicy details. No doubt you'll have to relay them a billion times over once everyone wakes up,” he huffed, placing a gentle hand on Newton's sopped shoulder. “Sleep tight.”

Divest of his clothes Newton sat silently though routine maintenance, his head properly cleaned and mended. Wanting nothing more than the privacy of his own room, his own bed, the man gave in, the hours too early to argue, and fell asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookin' with gas.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I’m hoping that it feels good, it turns, it turns, it turns  
> Trying to breathe in, it turns, it turns, it turns  
> I’m hoping that it’s easy, it turns, it turns, it turns  
> I’m hoping you believe me, it turns, it turns, it turns"
> 
>  
> 
> ["Turns Turns Turns", Majical Cloudz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hYQPqjXKK8)  
> 

Residual nightmares surfaced within his subconscious, preventing Dr. Geiszler from getting the sleep he wanted, the sleep he needed desperately, but that was par for the course most every night. The following hours found him actual rest with the help of the morphine drip he may or may not have tampered with for his own benefit. Waking up, Newton weakly cleared his throat, turning over to stretch his leg out to remember he was not in his own bed. He opened his eyes, bleary against the bright white light of the infirmary ceiling.

“Newton?”

Hermann sat in a char next to the bed, his book now rested open on his lap. The physicist reached over to hand Newton his glasses. Receiving them, the biologist was happy to have not found his limbs bound like they had been the last time. Placing the frames delicately on his head, he tucked the earpieces under the wrap of gauze around his salty hair and offered a throaty thank-you. Picking himself up, Newton found a seated position against the head of the cot, rolling his neck to work out a kink with a satisfying crack.

“You didn't wake me up.” Hermann's words delivered more guilt than inflection. Newton bit back a groan, instead sighing towards his lap.

“You and I both needed the sleep, dude. And I'm fine, see?” The biologist weakly smiled, enthusiasm just visible under the layers of exhaustion, salt, and blood. Hermann nodded, taking in the full account of all they had been through in the last 48 hours. He couldn't argue; he slept through the entire night.

“What time is it?” the biologist asked, stretching out a small amount more, easing himself out of the previous night's stresses just a little bit. He found it to be just past noon. “Shit,” he cursed. Hermann shook his head in response. “Like you mentioned earlier, we both needed rest,” Dr. Gottlieb reassured. Picking up his book he marked his page with the dust jacket, setting it on the bedside table gently. “Are you hungry?” he asked. Having eaten nothing since lunch the previous day, Newton's stomach felt like a void. He nodded pitifully.

“Let me get the nurse.” Hermann stood, fetching his cane just as Newton began to protest.

“No, it's cool. I just want to get out of here, dude. Take a shower, get into some clean clothes...” Yesterday's folded outfit lay in a pile, crusted with salt and other things Newton would rather not assess at the moment. Though laughably sterile, the pair of scrubs suited him just fine in the meantime, but they probably wouldn't let him leave wearing them.

“Would you rather I find you clean clothes?” Dr. Gottlieb offered, fidgeting with the head of his cane. Newton stared at him blankly.

“Uh... Yeah, sure,” the biologist swallowed thickly. “Just like, grab a t-shirt and some pants. Some boxers, socks... I'll be good.” With a nod his colleague silently disappeared. Alone Dr. Geiszler cupped his face in his hands, groaning theatrically when every ache and pain made themselves known in his privacy. He was half-tempted, glancing up at the IV stand next to the bed, for extra relief.

“Dr. Geiszler?” the feminine voice quipped, too familiar for his liking by now. “Can't say that I am happy to see you again so soon, but at least these are better circumstances, yes?” The man couldn't help but huff out a laugh at her broad smile.

“In all we have treated you for dehydration and a mild concussion, evident from the laceration on the rear of your scalp. Your tattoos make it difficult to find any bruising, so I would be wary of contusions that might not make themselves known until the painkillers wear off. We have detected fluid in your lungs, but not enough to be a concern. When you came in this morning you appeared quite lucid, but in case you don't remember the wound was irrigated and closed with seven staples. We had to shave the area, I do apologize. Your hair has gotten quite long. We tried not to take too much off.” At the comment Newton brought his hand up to his head, consciously carding his fingers through his overgrown, tangled locks.

“So, do you remember how you hit your head?” the doctor asked, diving into clinical mode as she poised a hand over the tablet at her chest.

“No, no... We were thrown overboard and the next thing I knew I was underwater. Um,” he paused. “How is he? Is he okay?” the biologist asked of the Ensign.

“He's just fine, resting a few doors over in fact. No more than a fractured arm. More superficial than anything gravely serious.”

Newton nodded slowly, content in hearing he was no worse off. He would never forgive himself if either of them had met more serious injury on his account. Dr. Geiszler owed him great thanks—without the man's cooperation the Kaiju would still be alive, and he most certainly wouldn't be. Chewing his thumb he discovered its taste reminiscent of the sea, his cuticles stained in dried blood, and he couldn't help but wonder how bad the rest of him looked.

Removing the catheter from the back of his hand the doctor then checked Newton's blood pressure, his pulse, his pupils, and with a satisfied hum was given the green light to check out as he pleased.

“For the next few days be very careful of the staples. Try not to aggravate the area when you shower, and be sure to gently pat it dry. Change the gauze twice a day, applying ointment to keep the wound from becoming infected. Of course, if you do find it infected, or you feel faint or dizzy due to the trauma please come in as soon as possible. Otherwise, I will see you in seven days to get the staples removed.” Newton was given a paper bag of gauze and Bacitracin. “If you need more, we have plenty. I will also take the liberty of scheduling you for an MRI, just to be on the safe side. Do you have any questions?” She laughed at the man's silent, assuring dismissal. “Of course. Take care, Dr. Geiszler, I will see you soon.”

The bag was placed on the side table, next to the book Hermann left—Boas' _Mathematical Methods in the Physical Sciences_. Leaving the bed Newton exited his room, his socked feet padding down the hall to peek in each door before catching sight of a familiar face. Hesitantly paused in the jamb, he didn't enter until a bandaged arm raised in invitation.

“Hey, I uh, just wanted to thank you, for everything.” Dr. Geiszler wasn't exactly sure what else to say, but met the soldier at his bed, greeting him with an extra firm handshake and a curt bow. Newton sat and talked with the man for a few minutes, regarding their monumental actions with dreamlike adoration—their big fish story no one will ever quite understand.

“Jūk néih hóuwahn,” the biologist wished upon him—any opportunity to flaunt his Cantonese—unable to thank him enough or more eloquently in his native tongue. Bowing to the Enisgn once more, he said goodbye before finding his own room again a few doors down. Hermann was waiting for him, fresh clothes stacked neatly on the bed. Holding up what his colleague had brought back for him, Newton chuckled. There was a knock at the door.

“Geiszler, doing well?” the Marshal asked as he entered the room. Out of the corner of his eye Newton spotted the hurried salute Hermann attempted.

“Yeah, uh, yes... sir.” Where the formality came from, he would chalk it up to the concussion, but Herc didn't even seem to notice. The biologist went to rake a hand through his hair, forgetting briefly of the bandage wrapped around his head.

“Good, I hate to do this to you but we will need you tonight for a press conference. I have already spoken to the soldier down the hall, and I must commend you on your quick thinking, Doctor. He says they owe you his life; that's quite the compliment.” Humility manifested itself on Newton's face in a full-on flush, opening his mouth to counter-argue before his superior raised his palm.

“Accept the compliment, Geiszler. I assure you that it is wholly deserved. The press conference won't be starting until eighteen-hundred tonight. You have the next few hours to rest; I suggest you do so. As you were.”

Newton was speechless, unable to accept the position on the pedestal he was placed upon. Shaking it off he turned his attention back down to the clothing Hermann had gotten for him from the complete and utter mess that is his quarters. Newton held the shirt in front of his face, a threadbare Rolling Stones baseball tee that had stopped fitting Illia years before his nephew was born.

“Wow, I haven't seen this thing in ages, where did you find it?” the biologist smiled.

“In a _drawer_ , where clothes _belong_.”

Newton took the hint; he didn't need to be reminded of the state of his floor, his things, his life. However, he wouldn't mind some of Hermann's shy sarcasm to dissipate—the subtle mood swings were maddening, confusing, and difficult to interpret. Newton sighed, they were eventually going to have to talk. About yesterday, about whatever _this_ was, what had become of them.

With a little too much intensity, Dr. Geiszler lifted the stiff fabric of the scrubs up and over his head, causing his left side to scream in pain. His breath hitched, caught in the shirt that trapped his arms above his head. Newton took a second to breathe, hearing first, and feeling second as Hermann walked over to help. Head free and torso bare the biologist twisted to look down at his ribs, just able to detect the smattering of discolored bruising hidden beneath the waves of ink, the yellows taking on a sickly green color. Laying a hand over the area, he took a seat at the edge of the bed.

“Are you okay?” he was asked, and despite doubling over, the biologist nodded carefully.

“Yeah, just caught me off guard is all,” Newton assured, balling and tossing the offending shirt to the head of the bed. Soon after the band tee was pulled on, the faded dragon obscured his abused torso from the scrutiny the physicist poorly hid. As Newton went to untie the drawstring of his pants, his colleague cleared his throat, excusing himself from the room a little more hurriedly than usual.

It had been a long time since Newton had worn his Dickies, sensing Hermann had dug deep into the back of his bureau, ignoring any and all clothing that hadn't been neatly stored away since the two first moved into the Hong Kong Shatterdome. They were loose, scuffed, and torn, reminding Newton of his skateboarding days. He was never very good, but he was good enough.

The black leather of Dr. Geiszler's boots were more of a mottled gray, dusted with grime that he tried to buff away with the heel of his hand but gave up halfway. The lining was still damp, negating the cleanliness of his socks completely, but Newton couldn't be bothered to care. Grabbing yesterday's clothes, he shoved the bandages and ointment over top, trying the clear plastic in a knot to avoid the smell. Letting the bag bump limply against his knee, he walked out to hand Hermann the book that he left on the side table.

“Food?” the physicist asked simply, the hardcover tucked under his arm in waiting. Newton could think of nothing else at that point, his colleague leading the way. Behind Dr. Gottlieb, the biologist subconsciously kicked the bag with each step. There was no hint of malice or intent to annoy his charge, but when Hermann looked back at him, a single eyebrow cocked, he stopped, slinging it instead over his shoulder.

Repopulated, the Shatterdome resumed its daily routine. It scratched a part of Newton's mind that found the military base's efficiency and punctuality rather frightening. It made him question whether or not his encounter with the Kaiju had even happened, but he was equally guilty of escaping his own trauma, avoiding his own problems now that Hermann became part of them in more ways than one. It was so much simpler when they hated each other.

The two scientists collected their lunch, filtering wordlessly through the cafeteria to claim an empty table against the wall. Dr. Geiszler stocked up, subconsciously making up for weeks of lost meals, sure to avoid Hermann's mothering glare. Halfway through his own lunch, Hermann broke the silence.

“What happened last night?” As composed as he'd liked to have appeared, the man teemed with anxious curiosity. Forgetting the rest of his pizza, Newton put the piece down after a hearty mouthful.

“Well,” he chewed, and swallowed. “We were on our way back, and all of a sudden the Kaiju appeared in front of the boat,” the biologist began in a near whisper. “It started to ram the hull, and practically jumped onto the side of it. No doubt with the intention of killing us, I'm sure. It all happened so fast, but... I knew we had to get rid of it one way or the other.” Newton's hands began to talk for him, nervously dancing and twisting in front of him. “Bullets did absolutely nothing, so we tossed an oxygen tank, gasoline, and rope into its mouth and shot at it with a flare gun. Caught fire instantly and fell back into the water before the tank ruptured, triggering its actual detonation mechanism throwing me completely off the boat and almost twenty yards away...” Taking his glasses off Dr. Geiszler pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wow, that sounds so insane having said that out loud... I'm not even convinced anymore that it happened,” he noted, snorting in near-disbelief. Sliding the frames back onto his face he looked up at his colleague. The other's mouth hung agape, eyes wide. Newton warily finished.

“Uh... So, I swam back to the boat, found the Ensign there, _alive_ , and uh, we were able to head back to the Shatterdome...” Newton looked down at his fingers, picking at the dried blood under his nails. He desperately needed a shower.

“That's brilliant, Newton,” Hermann breathed. “I don't think anyone would have come up with such an effective plan under that much stress.”

“I wouldn't go about giving me _that_ much credit, it was a stupid plan inspired by a movie with little to no foresight—pure fight-or-flight—and running away wasn't really an option,” Newton laughed, picking up his slice of half-eaten pizza. In retrospect, Dr. Geiszler honestly didn't expect to survive, predicting an immediate eradication of the the Kaiju, the boat, and all of its occupants. The entire point was to kill the Kaiju safely out to sea. The risk was its own reward.

“But, I mean to say that it wasn't like...” Newton tossed the food back onto his tray, shoving it to the side. “I didn't act out of contrition. I wanted us all to live, if that was an option.”

Drumming his fingers on the tabletop Newton was brought to stillness by the weight of Hermann's hand on his own. He didn't want it to feel nice, convincing himself the pleasant warmth stung like hot coals upon his skin. Pulling his hand back, he shoved it under the table where he began to bounce his knee.

“I—sorry.” Newton examined his colleague's face as the man almost looked hurt. “I know we have a few things we should probably, uh, discuss? Just... not right now,” the biologist looked down towards his jostling lap.

“Perhaps later tonight, then. After the conference,” Hermann offered. It would probably be best to get it over with sooner rather than later. When pent up frustration and mixed emotions were fresh in mind, but tempered. Newton nodded, but his heart raced all the same. After confronting a Kaiju, a round table of world leaders, his own mortality—nothing could prepare him for Hermann Gottlieb.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man we approaching critical fic right here. Two more chapters to go!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I've done the math enough to know the dangers of our second guessing.  
> Doomed to crumble unless we grow, and strengthen our communication."
> 
>  
> 
> ["Schism", Tool](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhjG47gtMCo)

 If not for the biologist's bandaged cohort and China's nationalistic trust in their own military, the report might as well have been pure fiction. The whole ordeal with the Kaiju had been so on-par with classic sci-fi the talking heads offered little commentary other than to interject with cheap Hollywood parallels and dated sports jokes. The reality had yet to hit Newton, but duplicitous laughs aside, the conference with the UN went painlessly, ending in remote handshakes, their parting words so austere it appeared unreal. Newton felt as if he should have been holding a cheap plastic trophy. Congratulations, you saved the world. Again.

The perspectives of others were pure conjecture—hyped-up or watered-down on a case-by-case basis—but at least it was believed. Newton's only regret was the lack of physical evidence. He had hope in the recovery crew to find something, anything, if only for closure, but neither were a guarantee. Fortunately for Newton the thanks from his peers were more genuine. Tendo promised a bottle of Japanese whiskey should Dr. Geiszler recount the experience in the heart of Mission Control. The officer loved stories, and to him, hearing Newton wax poetic of a near-fatal Kaiju encounter was worth his best, most dusty bottle of bourbon.

Over their long-overdue dinner in the mess hall, Newton was barely able to eat. Throughout the entirety of the meeting Hermann sat unbearably close, maintaining an incomprehensible proximity, even now on the cafeteria's fixed bench. Every nudge, every brush of the physicist's hand was a reminder, a touch that said: there is no escape. At least that's what Newton interpreted, louder still as Hermann stuck to his side, guiding him through the hall like a living rudder.

The laboratory didn't feel welcoming anymore. Like returning home after a shattering argument. Scunner was back in cold storage, the Pons turned off sometime since yesterday morning. Logically, Dr. Lightcap's own doing, and for that, Newton was grateful. He was done. Done with work, done with life, and even if Caitlin did know of the scientist's clandestine intention Dr. Geiszler didn't deserve the small favor. Yet now, in their shared space, standing before the the numerical scripture of God, its life-long disciple at his back, the time for confession had arrived. Perhaps Newton should have asked to borrow Tendo's rosary.

Hermann's palm burned at the small of Newton's back, guiding the man toward his desk. His chair still sat under the Pons—his throne of error—forcing the biologist to lean against the hastily cleared surface. Grabbing the nearest pen, he brought it to his mouth, and began to chew it to oblivion.

Dr. Gottlieb cleared his throat. “I'm not quite sure where to begin.”

“That makes two of us,” Newton added, teeth cracking around the plastic.

Cringing at the sound, Hermann sighed, passing his cane nervously between his hands as he paced in a small circle. He passed back-and-fourth over the weathered yellow line, attempting to mentally bridge the gap that separated them for so many years. Kicking at it, the tape began to give.

“Why did you keep to yourself?” the physicist asked, poking at the tacky fold on the floor with the toe of his shoe.

“No one trusted me.” Dr. Geiszler took the pen from his mouth, tapping it against his thigh. “You didn't trust me, the way you poked your head in the lab all the time.”

“I was only checking on your well-being, Newton.”

“And never said 'hello' half the time?”

Giving up on the tape, Hermann straightened his back. Hooking his cane to the arm of Newton's desk chair he pulled it near, gingerly taking a seat. They were going to be here for a while, and he, at least, needed to be comfortable.

“Why don't we start from the beginning, then?”

Newton dipped his head, and echoed, “The beginning?”

“Our Drift.”

That was far from the beginning, in Dr. Geiszler's opinion, but he acquiesced.

“Okay, our Drift. What about it?”

Dr. Gottlieb rest his cane across his legs, rolling the length under his palms across the top of his thighs. “Our Drift was different.”

“No shit, there was a fucking Kaiju in the mix,” Newton interrupted.

Hermann sighed. “Notwithstanding, I'm talking of memory, emotions. The addition of the Kaiju must have impeded our ability to fully meld like normal pilots. I can only speak for myself, but I saw snippets of your past, flashes of emotion, too disjointed to properly understand. Our talk at the party helped clarify those memories, though I wouldn't say it offered me any closure.”

Newton nodded, crossing his arms at his chest. “And this is your search for closure?”

“You could say that, yes.”

Newton took a moment to register Hermann's confirmation. Rolling his shoulders he straightened his back, and met his partner's gaze. “Okay, so, what do you want to know?” the biologist asked. Leaning back against the desk, he balanced on his heels, feet crossed at his ankles in an effort to appear nonchalant. He felt anything but.

“For one, why did you decide to go through with it a third time and not bother to tell me about it?” Hermann looked at his colleague expectantly. Newton had to backtrack to January, to the advent of his symptoms. To the nosebleeds, the blue-hued delusions. He tapped the pen against his chin in thought. “I started to experience the absence seizures—small lapses of time, moments where I saw into the Anteverse—immediately after Pitfall. I chalked it up to PTSD at the time, waking nightmares, but it seemed, off... Different, you know? I went back to how Otachi found me, and thought, what if I was still connected? If I was, I knew we would still be vulnerable.”

“As a point of contention, did you not think Drifting again would exacerbate the problem?”

Dr. Geiszler's brow furrowed as if insulted. “Of course I did, but I at least thought that if I could safely carry it out I would gain more information about them and what they were up to so we could prepare.”

“But if you _died_ , Newton, it would all have been for naught.”

The biologist huffed, and averted his gaze. “They'd still have you... Besides, I told Herc what I saw. Whether he believed me or not was his own agenda,” Dr. Geiszler shrugged.

Hermann shut his eyes, his fingers curling around the red length of his cane. Newton had always been defensive about his work, more so in the face of direct criticism. The problem was, the biologist was almost never wrong. Almost.

“I don't think you quite comprehend your own importance.”

“I don't think anyone ever has.”

Deep in his throat Hermann emitted a low groan, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I take it the Marshal allowed for this to happen?”

“Surprisingly. He was the one who ordered the fourth.”

“And the fifth?”

“I think that's pretty self-explanatory.”

Dr. Gottlieb looked up accusingly. “I, personally, do not.” Attempting eye contact, Hermann watched as Newton's eyes refused to focus, tearing away periodically to gaze around the room, or down at the floor. Desperate for distraction the biologist honed in on his leg and began to pick at a thread in his worn, loose trousers.

“I looked through your charts.” Hermann's admission caused Newton to emit a short laugh, plucking a frayed string from the seam completely.

“You hacked the medical records? Ballsy, Herms.”

Hermann shook his head. “No, purely circumstantial. They were open, and I was curious to know how your initial examination went. I kept reading, and, well...” the physicist shrugged, trailing off into silent empathy. He expected a larger reaction as Newton began to rap his knuckles against the desk in a nervous staccato. Hermann felt confident enough to continue. “In all the years we have worked together you have never failed to prove how obstinate you are when it comes to your work. So much as of late, that you've willingly put your own life at risk, _multiple_ times. I'm convinced you have a death wish, Newton. It's rather disconcerting.”

“You _caring_ is disconcerting,” Hermann heard the biologist faintly mutter, his tone much like a petulant child. Newton's words stung, but what could Hermann say? They weren't the most genial duo, but they worked well together. Ten years is a long time.

“Why can't things just go back to normal again...” the biologist mourned, intent upon staring at the floor between them.

“Was this ever normal?”

Newton chuckled. “No.” He looked up. “But it was, for us.”

When Hermann stood his colleague's wry smile faltered, his body shrinking at each plodding step the physicist took. Now a scant yard away, Newton pulled himself up to sit fully on the desktop.

“I think normal has been redefined many times over, now,” Hermann mused, closing the gap. He lightly traced his fingertips over the series of Newton's scarred and freckled knuckles, pure white with the force in which he clutched the lip of the desk. Dr. Geiszler held his breath, the inside of his cheek gnashed tightly between his molars. He twitched.

“This is _—_ ” the seated man shook. “ _Not. Normal._ ”

Hermann drew his hand back, but remained crowding his colleague where he sat.

“Let's talk about suicide,” Newton breathed. “Yeah, suicide. That's what this is about, isn't it?” Lifting his hand the biologist fluttered it toward the other, offering him the floor with dramatic effect. Hermann frowned, struck silent by the blunt request. Eyes downcast, he moved to lay his hand upon Newton's knee. The man all but shrieked at the touch, pushing himself up, and fully perched himself upon the table, an accusatory finger thrust into Hermann's face.

“Newton?” Hermann took a half-step back.

“That!” The digit trembled, inches away, waved back-and-fourth from the physicist's face to his hand and back again.

“I don't understand...”

“You just started... touching me!”

“Officer Choi touches you all the time and you don't seem to mind at all?”

“Because he's not _you_!”

They were arguing again. Perhaps a little one-sided, but it felt easy, too easy as Newton crouched, red-faced and panting from his elevated vantage point. Bringing his hands to his head he tugged at the gauze, resisting the urge to claw and scratch at the healing wound.

“We're supposed to hate each other, Hermann,” he sneered. “Or did you forget?” Folded inward, Newton kept his eyes cinched, hearing the small squeak of leather on concrete as his colleague shifted his weight, and sighed.

“If you'd like me to refrain from touching you—” Hermann began, but was unable to continue.

Dr. Geiszler groaned, tossing his head back. “It's not that easy! Why can't you understand that?” Tears threatened his eyes, glaring in disbelief, demanding answers from his reticent partner. “You got some ulterior motive or something? Huh? Make sure that Dr. Geiszler doesn't kill himself so the PPDC doesn't lose its precious freak of a biologist?” Balling his fists he rubbed at his eyes, his knees colliding with the hard lacquer of the desk. Hermann dared to take a step closer. And another. Newton began to tremble, diving head-first into a fully-fledged anxiety attack.

“Am I not allowed to have feelings for you?” Hermann struggled with the words. “I have no motive, Newton.”

Dr. Geiszler began to hyperventilate. Neither were prepared as the rapid sobs echoed off the bleak concrete, unending, self-perpetuating. Hermann knew the sound, but he didn't want to. Having heard it before from the confines of the lab in the dead of night, behind his colleague's heavy door. Face unshielded, they locked eyes, wet and wide.

“Fe-feelings?” the word came distorted. The syllables disjointed by hiccups and gasping breath. Hermann witnessed a catalog of emotion relay through Newton's mind like an itemized list. Anger? Spite? Disgust? The physicist found it urgent to clarify.

“Respect, and caring... Love.”

Newton looked just about ready to launch into another fit, but his physical disposition began to calm. Hermann refrained from speaking until he watched as the biologist's anxiety waned, his breath evening out, becoming deeper and more methodical. Past the peak of doom, Newton swung his legs around to a mildly more comfortable position, and wiped at his eyes.

“If you're fucking with me I highly suggest you tell me now,” Dr. Geiszler warned.

“I don't believe I have ever experienced a more genuine sentiment in my life. Admittedly, it's rather frightening, but I should think that's normal for such things.”

“From personal experience, yeah...”

The physicist took a moment to collect his own emotions, and nodded, more to himself than his own colleague's benefit.

“May I?” Hermann motioned at the desk. Nodding, Newton shifted carefully, legs dangling limply over the side. Hermann joined him, sure to maintain a comfortable distance, as much as one could on such a small surface, and began to swing his cane between his feet. Newton cleared his throat.

“So... What the hell brought this on?”

Hermann surveyed the room, from his chalkboards, to Newton's samples, looping back down to their feet, side-by-side. “When I was home I re-read nearly every letter you sent me. I remembered how close we were, how passionate you were... I was blind. I was blind to how you felt, Newton. I never realized.”

“How do you know how I felt?” Newton looked down, his bitterness aimed at the floor in a desperate attempt to doubt his own words. It was a sore subject he tried to forget for a very long time, but it haunted him, mocking him every day he stepped into the lab. Hermann didn't answer. He couldn't, his colleague's emotions having been too chaotic when they Drifted, too abstract to properly assess.

Newton's wavered breath cut through the silence that followed his unanswered question, lingering on a thought before he spoke. “Do you remember when we first met?”

How could either of them forget? It was a disaster. Newton didn't expect an answer to that thought, either. Hermann's memory was a given—precise, detailed, whether he wanted it to be or not. They were both so much younger back then, their stint with the Corps aging them far beyond their years.

“It takes six-hundred milligrams of acetylsalicylic acid per kilogram of body weight to be able to kill a person.” Leave it to Newton to insert such a grim fact, but it was no non-sequitur. He continued. “Aspirin is also a blood thinner, widely available, a little too available if you ask me. When I arrived at the Academy I managed to steal about a hundred of them. After my physical; after I met you.” When the biologist took pause Dr. Gottlieb did the quick math in his head. He didn't really need to. One-hundred was a large number as it was. “Thanks to Stacker and his welcome-wagon I spent three days in agony. The worst pain I have ever experienced, practically living on the bathroom floor and subsisting off blue Gatorade in an attempt to reverse what damage I did to myself. If I was able to keep it down, anyway...” Newton subconsciously revealed his forearms, palms-up. Cut down the horizontal chaos were long, vertical keloids. Just two, each spanning wrists to the pit of his elbows, interrupting the colored lines of Yamarashi and Atticon. “If it weren't for Stacker I also wouldn't have been given a second chance.” Dr. Geiszler flipped his arms back over, hanging limply between his thighs.

“I don't take rejection well,” he informed the physicist, the physical evidence fresh in mind. “However, I have been given more second-chances than one person should get...” Newton turned his head, and gave the man next to him a conflicted look. “I feel pathetic, desperate, after twelve years of restraint to still find myself under your fucking, boney-ass, chalk-covered thumb.” He brought a hand to his face to remove his glasses, staring blindly at the floor. “This isn't going to be easy,” Newton laughed nervously. “I don't want it to be easy,” he added solemnly.

Hermann gave him a thoughtful nod, and offered a hand, hovering above the desktop between them. After a moment, their fingers laced. It felt odd, but right, filling that years-long void that could not be satisfied by anything either scientist ever attempted, wholly ignored. That was no longer necessary.

“Considering how much of a learning curve I need in the realm of relationships, it will be best for both of us to take it slow,” Dr. Gottlieb mused, finding contentment in the simple affection holding hands brought to him. Experimenting, he flexed his fingers, earning a gentle pulse in return. Newton's skin was calloused, dry, abrasive, pressed into his and equally as unwilling to let go. The biologist leaned over, and rest his forehead on his colleague's shoulder. The pair remained in that position, soaking in each other's company.

Emboldened, and perhaps slightly disbelieving, Newton shifted. Dragging his face along the fabric of Hermann's sweater he lifted his head and craned his neck. He paused, waiting on bated breath for Hermann's blessing, for the faint smell of smoke and shampoo to register in the physicist's mind. Closing his eyes Dr. Gottlieb surged carefully forward, his mouth guiding him until he felt Newton's parted lips. It wasn't passionate, or frenzied, but tired, languid, and sweet. A kiss to emphasize how equally exhausted they both were, how relieved to have found the time to initiate without the overarching threat that consumed them, and separated them. Parting with a subtle sigh, Newton's forehead found its way back onto Hermann's shoulder.

“Cool?”

Hermann sat tongue-tied, silently fascinated by the lingering taste of cigarettes and black coffee. He hummed in affirmation.

“Cool,” Newton yawned. “'Cause I'm really fucking tired. I don't know how much longer I can stay awake...”

“We've been through a lot.” Hermann's voice was soft, muffled against Newton's hair. “We should get some rest.” He brought up a hand to card through Newton's hair, careful of the gauze. “But don't think we won't be talking about this tomorrow,” he emphasized with another subtle squeeze of his fingers. Newton chuckled, his breath hot and heavy through all of Hermann's layers. “So long as you don't rake me over the coals about anything, I'm game.”

Hermann grinned. “We'll see,” he whispered, and took a deep, exhausted breath.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I am so cruel... I apologize, life's been crazy y'all! Can't leave you lovelies hanging, one chapter after this one <3


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Most of my sweet memories were buried in the sand  
> The fire and the pain will now be coming to an end  
> How did you get to save me from this desolate wasteland  
> In your eyes I see the dawn of brighter days again."
> 
>  
> 
> ["Wasteland", Woodkid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aommAoyyR5Y)  
> 

As if it never had reason to end, the process came naturally to Dr. Gottlieb, perched high on his ladder. Focused intently on the small gray space, he made a single mark. Framed by its cousins, it became a complete, systematic family. Hermann leaned back slightly, assessing his work, and smiled. In his descent he fetched his cane from the third-to-last rung, and gently laid the shortening chalk nub on the ledge of the board. The scrawling numerical semi-nonsense was suddenly sensible, transcribed into his computer. Hermann glanced up every now and again to compare the analogue with the digital code.

A languid call from within the hall broke the lab's silence, a precursor to Officer Choi's none so peaceful presence. It was a nice change of pace that the man didn't immediately make an exit upon noticing the vacant right side. Hermann earned Tendo's unabashed friendship over the past few months, and this was his reward.

“'Sup, Hermann?” he asked, politely leaning against Dr. Gottlieb's desk. Had it been Dr. Geiszler's work space, his presence would have been entirely more invasive.

“I'm well, Tendo. What brings you to our humble corner?” Hermann took pause from typing. The urgency of the physicist's work was purely to be taken at face-value, as it was more of a personal project, after all.

“Bored out of my mind, you know how it goes. Thought I'd stop by, say 'hi' to you, annoy the hell out of Newt...”

Hermann chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Very well, though I am afraid Newton is off in the medical bay at the moment.”

Tendo snapped his fingers in conjunction with his sparked memory. “Right! He mentioned he was getting his staples out today. Told me he had to wait a week to drink because of the pain meds or something, makes sense.” Hermann nodded in agreement. It had been a long week, but at least the biologist stuck to his prescribed regimen. There had been more than a few indignant moans, but blessedly little argument.

“You look busy,” Tendo noted off-handedly, motioning towards both the chalkboard and the computer with his coffee mug. “Herc got you tied up like the rest of us?”

Dr. Gottlieb gazed wistfully across the hand-written code, having started the project only two days prior. “Not quite, Newton and I have begun to collaborate on a proposal for a possible alternative for powering the Jaegers. Analogue is best, considering how Gipsy was the only one able to operate after the EMP attack, but radiation poisoning is not something we'd personally like to witness after Stacker's illness.” If Marshal Pentecost hadn't been lost during Pitfall, he would have fatally succumbed to acute radiation syndrome. It was just a matter of time.

“Newton put a lot of research into bio-fuels in the past months, and on a whim decided to try and concoct a regenerative yeast-based substance that could be used to power the Jaegers. Indefinitely, he hopes. In the meantime I've been trying to determine if such a concept is viable. It's kept us busy...” he trailed off.

Tendo smiled. “So things are going well between you two?”

Hermann couldn't help but simper. Yes, Officer Choi was the Shatterdome gossip, but when it came to Newton's and now, by proxy, Hermann's comfort and happiness, he kept to himself. Mostly.

“I believe so...” The physicist became wary of the man's growing smirk.

“Is it good?” The officer's brow peaked, his mouth having become obscured by the underside of his coffee mug. After a minute of scrutiny and interpretation, Hermann's face glowed.

“We... haven't, yet...” The stuttered reply was lined in shame in the wake of Tendo's informality. Hermann was only recently the direct recipient of the man's unguarded commentary. Though he did witness the officer's banter with Newton from the outside, he was not prepared for Tendo Choi's candid conversation aimed towards himself. The officer laughed.

“Sorry, brother. It's only that... Well, I don't mean to imply that Newt's a nympho or anything.”

Hermann swallowed. “Why, did you two..?” Tendo's eyes grew wide, and raised his left hand with emphasis, turning his wrist to let the thick gold wedding band on his finger glint under the fluorescent light.

“Loudly spoken for. Just coffee talk, don't worry. Take it as a compliment. He doesn't want to scare you off, you know?”

Dr. Gottlieb wasn't sure whether he should feel flattered or embarrassed, and simply accepted Tendo's more educated assessment of Newton Geiszler's actions with a nod. It had only been a week, after all.

“Yes, well, he hasn't been able to scare me off yet...” Hermann fidgeted with the worn hem of his sweater vest. Tendo took this as his invitation to head back to his own work, decidedly freeing the desk of the burden of his own weight, summoning a relieved creak from the wood.

“Sorry if I overstepped my bounds, slip of the tongue, is all,” the officer winked, the act wholly contradictory to his apology. “Just remind Newt of tonight for me? Open invitation, of course.”

Hermann smiled up at the man, receiving the same gesture in kind before Tendo strolled back out of the lab. He began to type again, distracting himself from his own thoughts and evaluation. Unlike the week after Pitfall, the past seven days were a different brand of tense. Newton's adventure had been dubbed the Brody Incident after half the Shatterdome decided to project “JAWS” in the Jaegar Bay and fumigate half the base with the smell of burnt popcorn. A tad ill-timed in Hermann's opinion, but the biologist insisted on joining them. Admittedly, it was a nice change of pace to sit back and watch a film, but that night Hermann discovered Newton in the lab on a hunch, in the throes of a PTSD-influenced panic attack that could only be attributed to the events on screen. Leave it to Dr. Geiszler, scrubbing at his wrecked face, to lament the loss of one of his favorite classic movies around an uncertain laugh, bloodied crescent moons trailing up his arms and neck.

“What a fucking joke,” the biologist said that night. Hermann could only assume it was self-referential.

Neither were without their insecurities. Conversation was still difficult, but it was getting easier. Transition from a professional relationship was going to take time. There were many gaps to fill, words to say, emotional bulwarks to deconstruct, but they were up to the challenge. Together, they had made considerable progress, but they had a long way to go.

From within his pocket Hermann's phone rang, the staccato vibrations jolting him from his thoughts. Retrieving it, he answered without a second thought.

“Yes, hello?”

“Mein kleiner Junge!”

The warmth of his own mother's words coursed through him like homecoming in the wake of recent weeks. Hermann smiled. “Hallo, Mama.”

“You really do need to call more often, I'm afraid my heart cannot take any more of these near-disastrous events...” She sounded relieved over the phone, if not a tinge exasperated. Her son didn't mean to deny her news of his well-being, it just so happened that preventing further catastrophe took a little more precedence.

“I apologize, but I am doing quite well, to be sure,” he reassured.

“Well enough to attend your brother's wedding, I hope?”

Hermann flinched, and brought his hand to his face, willing his action inaudible over the phone. “Of course, I only need to finalize my leave with the Marshal. I doubt it will be a problem.”

“You can be sure he will hear from me if he refuses! It is only two weeks away. It would be lovely if you were able to come early to spend time with the family, the children keep asking after you.”

The thought of Karla's family was enough to remove the image of Mrs. Gottlieb admonishing Hansen from half a world away. Hermann didn't want a repeat of his freshman year in Berlin, having discovered a room mate when he had strictly filed for single housing. She could be a little overbearing, no doubt overprotective, but it was a reflection of her own love. Hermann could sympathize now, having felt the urge to throttle those who even looked at Newton sideways. The physicist's eyes lit up.

“Mama, I have a request, if it may be of no trouble?”

“Of course! What is it, Liebling?” Any and all trace of maternal pluck was instantly replaced with tenderness. The switch never failed to unnerve all four of her children, rendering Hermann silent for a moment to recover. He cleared his throat.

“Might it be possible to invite a guest? To the wedding, that is...” Hermann didn't want to imply anything, nor involuntarily reign anyone in to Gottlieb family politics, celebratory or otherwise. It just wouldn't be fair, but life rarely is.

“A date? Mein Sohn ist verliebt! Who is it? Tell me, tell me!”

“Yes, who is it, Hermann?“

“Karla!“ Their mother was the first to admonish her own daughter, but seemed considerably less concerned when she continued to press. “Never mind your sister, dear. Who is it?“

Again, the hand that raked itself down Hermann's face was not audible, but his groan certainly had been. He could still hear his sister's muffled laughter on the other line, most likely upstairs in the hallway of their parent's home, the antique-looking rotary phone sitting in her lap as she sat on the floor, her children piled around her.

“I don't think who is important, if it's going to be treated as entertainment at my expense,” Hermann warned, his temper aimed wholly at Karla. Accustomed to their playful banter, it didn't faze their mother in the least.

“Come, now. How am I supposed to book the plane ticket without a name?”

Her son was almost convinced that she was also beginning to play him. He took a deep breath, and said, “Newton Geiszler.”

“Hah!” Karla squealed over the line, the monosyllabic response forcing Hermann to briefly hold his phone a fair distance from his ear.

As if summoned by name only, the singularly familiar pattern of combat boots converged upon the lab from down the hallway. Spinning around in his chair Hermann stared, stupefied, taking in the hooded figure at the door. Acknowledging the rather vocal cell phone held at arm's length by his partner, Newton simply nodded, and slowly made his way to his side of the lab.

“Hermann? Hermann, are you there?” His mother's voice was loud enough to be heard from a distance.

“Yes, I apologize. What was that?” Hermann uttered into the receiver, thankfully hearing no sign of Karla above their mother's own joy.

“It's about time! I remember your how happy you were when you got those letters in the post,” she gushed.

“Yes, well, a lot has changed since then,” Hermann absently noted, his focus on Dr. Geiszler, typing quietly at his desk.

“Well then, I will book your tickets for next Friday.”

“Wait, I—”

“It's never any trouble, Hermann. Ich liebe dich!” With an exaggerated kissing sound, and no time to contest, the call ended. The physicist blinked at his phone, slowly registering the entirety of the conversation, and pocketed the device after a generous sigh escaped his lungs.

Looking up Newton seemed no different, the subtle glow of his screen illuminating his shadowed face under the cover of his hood. Had it been a year earlier Dr. Geiszler would have hovered over his colleague, mouthing words and fawning over him as the physicist attempted to concentrate on the distant conversation. Much had changed, indeed. As the man busied himself with whatever he found so important on his computer, Hermann ditched his own station to find himself clearing a space to rest against Newton's desk. The man didn't look up.

“Is something wrong? Is your head okay?”

Where once Dr. Gottlieb relished in his colleague's silence, as of late, it was vexing.

“Uh, my head is fine. Why?”

Hermann reached out, fingers brushing a messy clump of hair out of the other man's face before his hand pushed back under the hood, slipping it off. Lost in the sensation Newton's eyes had closed, humming, but jolted and pushed back, catching his partner off-guard.

“I'm sorry, did I hurt you?” Hermann knew he didn't. Curious, he stared at what lay beneath the cloth, what might have rendered Newton so shy. The fresh bandage was where it should have been, considerably less bloodied and yellow than it had been days ago, but around it Newton's head was neatly buzzed, symmetry sacrificing the length on the other side to match. Nostalgia hit like a wave—the last time the biologist had his hair in a mo-hawk, it was at the Academy.

Newton cleared his throat. “I, uh... I didn't want to have just a patch missing, so I had an orderly help me even it out.” His partner's silence caused him to fidget, cracking his knuckles one at a time, formulating an excuse. “I mean, if you don't like it I can just shave it all off—”

“No, no, Newton... It looks,” Hermann gauged his partner's face before choosing his response. “It's very becoming.” Dr. Geiszler only rolled his eyes, but hearing the word describe such a counter-culture hairstyle, by Hermann no less, was the best complement he could have asked for. Newton naturally tested his limits.

“So, I was thinking green?” the biologist smirked, prepared for Dr. Gottlieb's momentous groan. “Kidding, kidding... I wouldn't be able to bleach my hair for a few months even if I wanted to.” At this, Hermann looked relieved, and changed the subject once he carded his hand affectionately through the stripe of hair once more.

“Tendo came by,” he noted, continuing to brush his partner's head into a semblance of neatness, almost lulling the other into sleep.

“Mm, saw him in the hall,” Newton began, humming. “I couldn't forget if I tried. He's been bugging me about it all week.”

The pair sat that way for a while, basking in each other's company until Hermann's phone chimed. Not wanting to break their peace, the physicist ignored it until Newton brought it up. “Gonna get that?” he asked, cracking an eye open. With a sigh Hermann took his hand from atop his partner's head, feeling only slightly bad and a lot amazed at how much worse he had sculpted the hairdo. Fetching his phone, Hermann discovered his mother had delivered her promise rather expediently, and to her own lavish taste. In his inbox sat the confirmation for two first-class tickets to Heathrow, departing next Friday. He exhaled the breath he didn't realize he was holding in.

“What's up?” Newton asked, flipping his hair to fall to one side. He swayed his seat gently, side-to-side, scrutinizing his partner. Hermann cleared his throat.

“Newton, would you be opposed to meeting my family?” the physicist asked carefully. The thought didn't seem to bother his partner in the least, who simply shrugged and continued to twist his chair with the toe of his boot. “I've already met your father. I think I handled that well enough,” Newton mentioned, lifting a pen from his desk to bring to his lips.

“Yes, well,” Hermann began to elaborate around a nervous laugh. “You see, my brother's wedding is approaching, and I might have volunteered you as my plus one.” Newton's eyes crinkled in the most captivating way, his mouth smiling around the plastic cap. Hermann didn't want that look to ever disappear, fearing the detail to come.

“The wedding is quite soon, I'm afraid,” he continued, worrying the head of his cane. “My mother has taken the liberty of buying us both plane tickets for next Friday.”

As soon as the information came, Dr. Geiszler's eyes bulged.

Hermann felt it prudent to add, “First-class to London.”

Newton's feet met heavily with the floor. “Huh?” he squeaked.

“I understand if it is too soon. It's no trouble at all to cancel your flight,” Hermann was interrupted when his partner held up a loose hand.

“Hold up. You're telling me I get to fly first-fucking-class, dude?”

“Well, yes, I—”

“Like, hot towels, ice cream, booze, the works?”

Newton was an enigma—his child-like excitement admirable and incredibly diffusing. For that, Hermann was thankful, confirming the perks his partner apparently never had the privilege to experience, only to hear of in passing like some long-guarded secret.

“Fuck, dude. I'm a horrible flier, but that might actually make me like planes,” the biologist laughed, sticking the pen between his teeth again.

“So you'll come with me?”

“Of course,” Newton reassured, reaching over to place his hand upon Hermann's tense fists, stroking his thumb across the series of whitened knuckles. His eyes squinted again, accentuating his crows feet in the same way that arrested Hermann's attention the first time. The physicist stalled, then pivoted forward to capture Newton's lips on his own. It came as a surprise to them both, as intimacy was not frequently expressed this early in their relationship. As such, neither dared spoil the moment, moving in tandem, savoring the connection as long as they could.

“How can I say no to that?” Newton breathed. “If it meant I got more of that, I'd go steerage in a goddamn cargo ship.”

Collecting himself, Hermann willed his face to regain a more normal shade of pink, muttering a simple “thank you” in return. He demanded more, but now wasn't the right time, for either of them. Newton met him with a single peck on the cheek, and that was enough, delivering a conscious squeeze to his hand.

“Shit, does that mean I have to shave my head now?” the biologist lamented, a genuine look of regret upon his face as he reached up and fluffed the limp mo-hawk.

“Absolutely not. I believe it would be a good dose of humility for my father to know the person who saved the world twice from near destruction, tattoos, doctorates, and all,” Hermann stated confidently, sparking within Newton the youthful rebellion he had to suppress for the sake of professionalism. The look in his eye was positively wicked, and didn't go unnoticed.

“However,” Hermann pressed, “I must ask you to please behave yourself. I trust you know how to act in the presence of family?”

“Dude, I have like, zero relatives. Familial discourse is not something I have much experience with, but I've been to enough commencement ceremonies to know how not to be a complete jackass. Give me some credit.”

Hermann eyed the floor. “Forgive me, I far from dislike my family, but my father has... standards.”

The warning caused Newton to throw his head even further back in exasperation. “Dude, you gotta stop letting your dad rule your life,” he groaned. “Don't doubt for a second that I won't do my best to not only behave myself around Lars, but to simultaneously shove it in his face, as nicely as possible, that I probably had all six of my doctorates before the age he even considered his prospectus.”

The younger Dr. Gottlieb had been on that end of his argument before, in more abrasive times. Newton was smart, and possessed a social savvy to woo the most studied of persons, if not completely confound those of average intellect. That now became valuable ammunition.

“I beg you not resort to such things, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Hermann acknowledged, all the while secretly relishing in the idea of his own father being brought down a few pegs, but that fantasy could wait until they at least arrived in England.

Glancing up at the clock Hermann noted there was time enough for a leisurely dinner before Tendo expected Dr. Geiszler's presence in LOCCENT.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“I could eat, sure. It would be best to carb-load, considering what Tendo has in store for me tonight.” Newton stood, tossing the chewed pen back onto his desk before offering his hands to assist Hermann. As soon as the physicist was on both feet , he was brought into a hug.

“Man, next week I'm gonna be on a plane, on my way to meet Hermann Fucking Gottlieb's family.” Newton laughed into the scratchy wool of Hermann's sweater. “You sure about this?”

“Liability is a minimum,” the physicist assessed.

“Projected risk?”

“Accounted for.”

Hermann waved to the sprawling equation on the blackboard.

Newton lightly shoved out of the hug, a smile on his face as he playfully punched his partner's shoulder. “Jerk,” he laughed, but kissed his partner's cheek, anyway.

“We were about to get dinner, were we not?”

“Yup, I need to save this really quick.” Newton spun around in his desk chair, sure to type a few more thoughts for good measure. Making it back to his own computer, Hermann couldn't help but stare across the room. Dr. Geiszler sat, his eyes bright with a familiar spark whose absence rivaled that of his mo-hawk.

It would be wrong to call this coming full circle. For years Dr. Gottlieb tried to carry the weight of the world and its fate upon his shoulders. He emphasized his importance, adopting an ever-growing critical eye while blindsided by his own hubris, but he was no longer alone. He never was, he realized. As much grief the military might have furnished upon his life, he was among friends, equally as haunted, and equally as determined to fight. A decade was a long time to chase monsters; even longer when running from them. Yet, if there were any lessons Dr. Gottlieb cherished, it was to never judge a book by its cover, and that fortune always favors the brave.

“You ready?”

Hermann looked up. Newton stood in waiting, arm out, palm up, an echo of the young, rebellious man the physicist met at the Academy. For all they had been through, this small, insignificant moment was nothing short of a miracle. Hermann smiled.

“Yes, I'm ready,” he nodded, and took Newton's hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, folks, but Schism is finally finished! Thank you so much for your support. Here's to Pacific Rim 2!

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my bee for taking on the task of editing this. This has been a piece too long in the works, and I am finally glad to get it out into the world (read: nervous as hell). Each chapter will be posted once it has been edited. I won't leave you hanging!  
> Rating and tags may change and expand as the piece is published, as I may have missed a few. I won't tag small piddly things, but I will be conscious of including major themes that may be a trigger to some.
> 
> I also made a Newmann Discord for fans to come, hang out, discuss these failboats and just make friends! Details here: [Newmann Discord!](http://rigorcorvus.tumblr.com/post/146523774053/i-jumped-the-gun-and-created-a-discord-chatroom)
> 
> Please comment, it's greatly appreciated as I always want to hear what people think!


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